


The Sun Still Waits Here (With the Moon and Stars Beside It)

by LittleTayy



Category: His Dark Materials (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Child Neglect, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Family Dynamics, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Violence, It's not always great!, Lord Asriel's A+ Parenting, Marisa Coulter's A+ Parenting, Marisa and Asriel try to parent as best they can, Non-Linear Narrative, Self-Harm, graphic depictions of self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21678478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleTayy/pseuds/LittleTayy
Summary: Marisa Coulter and Lord Asriel aren’t typical parents but they certainly try their best. Raising Lyra isn’t as easy as they thought it would be; professional ambitions and personal vices getting in the way.(Non-linear snippets of an AU story set in our modern world.)
Relationships: Lord Asriel & Lyra Belacqua, Lord Asriel/Marisa Coulter, Lyra Belacqua & Ma Costa, Lyra Belacqua & Marisa Coulter
Comments: 33
Kudos: 334





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The modern AU, of Marisa and Asriel raising Lyra, that nobody asked for.

**All Sins, Secrets and Scandals Revealed**

* * *

**_secrets_**

**_._ **

She is still Mrs. Marisa Coulter when Lyra is born, two weeks early and with her husband still away on business; the both of them screaming as Lyra enters the world. It is all pain and joy and immense relief for Marisa. It is simply her and the nurses and midwives in the birthing room, no easily fooled husband or tempestuous lover to crowd and coddle her. 

The infant is still crying, still making a God Awful noise and Marisa reaches for her, practically snatches her out of the nurses hands. She is small and still a little red, fussing in Marisa’s arms. Already she can see the dark hair littered along the crown of her head and she is surprised at the glimpse she captures of her dark eyes as her daughter gazes up at her. 

Her daughter. Her _child_. She is a mother now and quite frankly, it’s almost beyond Marisa’s comprehension. She is responsible for the bundle squirming in her arms, now quieted by the cooing Marisa hadn’t realised she’d been doing. 

Marisa’s focus is purely on the baby now. Everything else around them has disappeared; the Prime Minister himself could walk into the room and Marisa wouldn’t give a damn. Instead, she’s looking at her child, the perfect mixture of her and Asriel, cataloguing every feature. She’s pleased to find that Lyra’s features favour her own for the time being; hardly any of Asriel seems to be in her. For now at least. 

It’s two days before Edward arrives home all pride and bluster, excited at the prospect of finally having a child. He is disappointed Lyra is a girl, Marisa can tell. Though the ultrasound had confirmed that at 5 months, he’d held out hope, much to Marisa’s annoyance. Still, he’s charmed by the baby, even if his interest in her wanes by the time the week is out. 

Marisa doesn’t mind though. Lyra is _hers_. The less time Edward spends with her, the better in her opinion. 

* * *

**_sins_ **

**_._ **

It’s a month before Asriel is finally back in Britain, let alone in London. He shows up unexpectedly at the Coulters apartment. Though he knows it’s dangerous and bordering on audacious, but he’s already spent a month apart from his child and his lover and he won’t wait another moment more. 

He steps off the elevator and into the penthouse apartment, surprised and yet not at the young woman that greets him. It takes a moment for him to realise she is the Nanny, though she has no child in her arms. The young woman, whose name he has already forgotten, directs him towards one of the rooms at the other end of the long hall. 

Marisa is there and Asriel feels as if he’s never seen her before now. She is the most unkempt she’s ever been but she’s got the baby in her arms and is cradling her, holding her so softly and gently, he wonders if she’s been taken over by a bodysnatcher. The Marisa Coulter he knows is neither soft _nor_ gentle. Yet here she is with a baby in her arms, looking so gloriously soft and beautiful beyond belief. 

Her eyes snap up and meet his for a moment, a smile blooming wide on her lips before her eyes turn icy. Her expression turns sharp, though she is still smiling her shark-like smile and her eyes move to the figure behind him. “Leave us,” Marisa instructs, voice brooking no room for argument. Asriel doesn’t need to look back to know the girl will scurry away, though she can’t be more than a few years younger then Marisa herself. Marisa had always had the uncanny ability to unsettle and intimidate others with a few words or a simple look. There’s a wretchedness to her soul but it’s one Asriel loves. 

Once she is gone, Asriel makes his way further into the nursery, taking a moment to glance around at the pretty pastel toys and accents and the detailed, hand painted stars and planets that adorned the ceiling. He shouldn’t have been surprised by the almost Renaissance feel of the artwork. Marisa was nothing if not particular and he knows she had planned the nursery out in every last detail. The night-scape a homage to their shared fondness for the stars. 

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” Marisa tells him almost nonchalantly. The words are light but Asriel knows better. 

They’d had a fight a few weeks before she’d given birth and Asriel had run off abroad to do some kind of research. It was a thinly veiled excuse to get away before their fight blew up into something worse; which it was prone to do when they both let their tempers get the better of them. 

Asriel scoffed, though it was out of amusement. “I could hardly just leave my research team a month early,” he replies, stepping closer and letting his eyes fall to the baby girl in his lovers arms. He doesn’t add that he almost jumped onto a plane the moment he’d heard she’d given birth two weeks before she was supposed to. Only Stella, his research assistant had stopped him. 

Marisa simply gives him a look but he ignores it as she _finally_ relinquishes her hold on the child and passes her over. Lyra is perfect, is the first thing he thinks, as she settles in his arms and her wide dark eyes look up into his. She might have his chin but mostly, he can see Marisa in her more than anything. He wonders if that’ll change, if as she grows she’ll look more and more like him. He rather likes the idea of her taking after her mother, though. 

Holding his child for the first time, he wants to ask what they are going to do. Marisa is the schemer, the planner of the two of them; so he knows she _must_ have something in mind. He knows a divorce would be the simple answer but Marisa has never been _simple_. 

“She’s…” he starts, a finger caressing the baby’s soft skin, trying to think of the perfect words to describe the infant. He looks up at her then, watching Marisa as she watches them. 

She steps closer and he can see that she is _itching_ to have her daughter back in her grasp once again. He wonders if she has let the Nanny do much of anything since Lyra’s been born, he has a feeling he already knows the answer. 

“I missed you,” Marisa admits and Asriel can only assume her soft emotions are simply still an effect of hormones. His Marisa would never have admitted such a thing. 

Despite all that, Marisa is still magnificent and she’s holding their child. Really, Asriel reasons with himself, how is he _not_ supposed to kiss her? Their child is nestled between them, held securely in her mother’s arms. The kiss is heated and passionate and filled with something neither of them can quite describe. 

It’s almost perfect. 

If Marisa’s name wasn’t still Coulter. If the Nanny hadn’t been lurking outside the door. If they’d just been more careful. 

* * *

**_scandals_ **

**_._ **

By the time Lyra is six months old, Marisa’s reputation is in tatters, ruined almost completely. 

The Nanny, whose name even now she could not remember, even after she’d ruined her life, had started whispering in Edward’s ear. It became clear very quickly that she’d seen and heard far more then she was supposed to. Marisa supposed it hadn’t helped that she and Asriel had gotten swept up in the emotions of having a child together, that it had made them careless. 

That it had made _Asriel_ careless, Marisa decided. Showing up announced to see her and the baby. Enticing her out to his estate. She was a new mother, surely her actions could be blamed on hormones or some such thing. That’s what she’d tried to argue at least. 

Edward Coulter, though usually easily fooled, could not ignore the glaring evidence of photographs of Marisa, Asriel and Lyra together, taken on multiple occasions over multiple weeks. Each photograph more condemning than the last, making it clear to anyone that looked upon them of Lyra’s true parentage. 

His outrage turned to anger and really, it was quite unfortunate that Marisa and Lyra happened to be with Asriel when he found them. Accusations and taunts and curses hurled between both men, though most of Edward’s hateful words were directed at Marisa, until the two men came to physical blows. The gunshot was loud and unexpected and had set Lyra off in a wail. 

It had not been _at all_ how Marisa had wanted things to go. She’d expected Edward to be angry but pitiless, agreeing to a quiet but amicable divorce, lest she reveal to the public his cuckolded humiliation. Edward Coulter’s public high profile was something he coveted, almost as much as Marisa herself coveted her own. 

Instead, Asriel was trialled for shooting dead her husband and their affair and secret _love child_ as the press had dubbed Lyra, were all public knowledge. The whole situation _infuriated_ Marisa and the vicious, petty part of her nature had her refusing to talk or see Asriel and by extension, keeping him away from Lyra. 

It was needlessly cruel but Marisa had reasoned with herself that she was Lyra’s mother. She was simply protecting her child. After all, the death of a Cabinet Minister by the hands of his wife’s lover, who also happened to be a titled Lord was a scandal of epic proportions. Lyra was only a baby and Marisa was determined to keep her name out of the papers as much as she could, no matter how illogical it all seemed. 

Her temper tantrum, as Asriel called it, lasted until Lyra was almost a year old. Their scandal, now that Asriel was found to have killed in self defence, the gun had been Edward’s after all, was slowly leaving the forefront of people’s minds. It should have come as no surprise then, when a month before Lyra’s first birthday Marisa turned up at Asriel’s estate, declaring that they needed to prepare for her birthday celebration. 

They didn’t talk about it, not in any real way but by Lyra’s first birthday, they’d hired a Mrs. Costa to look after Lyra, her nursery had been all set up and Lyra and Marisa’s things had been moved to the estate as discreetly as possible. It was exactly as Marisa had always wanted it. 

And to top off the first year of her daughter’s life, Marisa had made sure that the Nanny that had whispered recklessly to her husband, was never heard from again.


	2. one

**many things make a family but ambition isn’t one**

* * *

“She is not a _doll_ , Marisa.”

The words are said with amusement and condescension and they make Marisa glower. 

She does not turn to look at her lover, instead stays focused on fixing the outfit on her 18 month old child. They were going to attend a garden party, filled with Asriel’s relatives; all rich, upper class aristocrats. Marisa would never admit it, she'd downright deny it if Asriel ever dared call her on it, but she is nervous. 

And not the good kind of nervous, either. Like the nerves you get before doing something _daring_ or _exhilarating._ No, Marisa’s nerves were born from something deeper, something darker.

This will be their first proper outing together, as a family. 

Lyra plays with the hem of her party dress, head twisting this way and that as Marisa _tries_ to fix a bow atop her head. “Darling, please hold still,” Marisa speaks slowly, the frustration clear in her voice. It is also clear that her experience with children, of any kind but toddlers in particular, is very much limited. 

She is steadfastly ignoring her lover as he steps further into the room, his eyes catching Lyra’s and distracting her further. Asriel let's her run wild through the Manor, he'd leave her in nappies and overalls and covered in mud, so long as she didn't disturb him. It was lucky, Marisa thought, that she was there, otherwise their child might grow up never clean and proper. 

They’ve found, in the six months they’ve been living together as a family, that they both have very different styles of parenting. In that, Marisa does most of it and Asriel simply flits about on the outskirts, until Lyra does something to draw his attention and then he is all praise and play. 

Lyra’s chubby little toddler hands push her away as she darts from her reach, heading towards her father. The bow is a lost cause and it takes a considerable amount of Marisa’s willpower to not just toss the ribbon down to the floor with a huff. Clearly, her frustration is not well hidden, as she stands and her eyes catch Asriel’s, she can see he is amused. 

“Don’t,” she snaps out, dark eyes fixed pointedly on the man. She sweeps past him, ignoring the wrinkles he's created in Lyra’s dress, slamming the bow down on the little chest of drawers in the corner of Lyra’s room. Her temper can at times rival her daughters and it’s unfortunate, it seems, that Lyra has inherited her mother’s temper. 

“I don’t know _why_ she wanted to put that silly bow in your hair. You’d just pull it out anyway,” Asriel tells his daughter holding her awkwardly, the words deliberately loud enough for Marisa to hear as they follow her out of the toddler’s room. She doesn’t respond, choosing to ignore him instead, that is her favourite tactic. Asriel simply grins, after all, they have a garden party to attend and he wants Marisa riled up, he’s always thought that’s when she looks the most beautiful.

* * *

The party had been interesting. Marisa had been cold towards Asriel since they'd left the Manor. But as soon as they stepped into his Uncle’s brilliant, done up garden, a smile had replaced her frown and she was charming and sweet as ever. It never failed to amaze Asriel how easily Marisa could weave her magic and wrap people around her finger as if it was the most natural thing in the world. If Asriel didn't know better, he'd think she was borne of witches or succubi or sirens. 

It was a gift and they both knew it. 

Marisa held onto their daughter tightly, until Lyra had spotted other young children and wriggled and squirmed to be let down. Their wild little, dark haired child toddled off after a few cousins, Marisa keeping an eagle eyed watch over her as she always did. Asriel thought to tease her about it, to call her a helicopter parent or over protective but knew she was not in the mood. Any more pushing and she'd just as soon as poison his drink for making such a comment in earshot of people she deemed important. Asriel knew when to not push her too far. 

It seemed there were many important people for both Marisa _and_ Asriel there that afternoon. He soon got pulled into a conversation with an acquaintance of his Uncle’s and before long, was telling him all about his research. It seemed the acquaintance could be useful to Asriel and his work; and if Marisa knew how to charm and sway people to her ways, Asriel knew how to capture and coerce people to his. 

A slight scowl had settled over his features, when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Marisa talking to a second cousin or an in-law of some kind, he wasn’t sure. The man, he could see was about his age, maybe a year or two older and had his eyes trained intently on Marisa as she spoke. There was a woman beside them but it was clear the conversation was really between Marisa and the man; the scene annoyed him more then anything, he didn’t much care if his relatives were charmed by Marisa or not. But he did not like the look of enthralment that man had. 

He was immaturely pleased then, when he heard the cry of a child and recognised it as one from his own daughter. He watched as Marisa tensed, turning elegantly as she recognised the wailing of their daughter, brows furrowed with concern and eyes darting about the garden in worry before locking onto their child. She rushed her way over, not bothering with the man or their conversation any longer, squatting before their child, hands poking and prodding at the grazes on chubby little knees and palms. 

“Oh, it’s alright my Darling! Mama’s here,” Marisa cooed, tending to their child, wiping away tears and picking her up with ease; relishing in the way Lyra clung to her, needing her as only a child needs their mother. “I’ve got you, my _darling little Lyra_.”

* * *

By the time they get home, Lyra is exhausted and clingy and irritable. So Asriel leaves dealing with her to Marisa. It isn’t an active choice but a natural one. Marisa is focused and occupied with looking after Lyra, ignoring Mrs. Costa’s attempts to help and Asriel has his research to go over. His talk with his Uncle’s acquaintance had been enlightening and he’d decided that he needed to prepare some kind of brief for the man; if he was hoping to get any kind of funding, he’d need to focus. He hid away in his study with ease.

It was past 9 P.M. when Marisa eventually wandered into his study. Freshly bathed and moisturised, with two tumblers of the finest whiskey in her hands. It seemed her mood from earlier in the day had dissipated and Asriel was pleased. She handed a crystal tumbler to him, moving to glance over his work with curiosity as she took a sip from her own. 

“You’re producing it into a presentation?”

“I am. There may be some interest in funding for my next research expedition,” Asriel grinned, nodding, relaxing back in his leather-bound chair as he watched her. Their fields were similar, yet not. She’d managed to publish a study not long before she fell pregnant and there’d been a buzz around her work, their scandal however, had put a damper on all of that. She was equally as brilliant as Asriel though and he had no doubt she’d find a way back onto the path she’d been travelling before Lyra came along. 

He noted, by the way her eyes gleamed, that that might be sooner rather than later. 

“Is that so? It seems we’ve both been presented with opportunities this afternoon,” Marisa mused, her smile wide as she sipped her whiskey. Asriel knew not to bother asking, she was going to tell him any way. “I met a rather interesting man this afternoon. A Lord Boreal...I don’t know who he was there with, mind you. He works for the government, in the Defence Department or Intelligence, something like that. He wasn’t quite clear. But...he’d read about my work, Asriel. He knew who I was and seemed very interested in talking more. If I play my cards right, I may end up with a government contract. Now wouldn’t that be something after all the scandal Edward caused?” Marisa told him, her delight clear as day to see. 

“It certainly would. But, the government Marisa? I thought you wanted to research and experiment independently?” 

Marisa lifted her delicate shoulder’s in a shrug, draining the last of the whiskey from her tumbler and placing it down on his overflowing desk once it was empty. “I’m afraid, I don’t _have_ that luxury,” she replied, gesturing around his study, making it clear what she meant. “Besides, imagine all the things I could do in the name of the government, that I certainly couldn’t do as an independent researcher,” Marisa continued, smile turning wide and deadly as she stepped closer, slipping down to sit on his lap and wind her arms around his neck. “I could do almost anything, Asriel!” she whispered hotly against his ear. 

Asriel chuckled at her words, placing his own tumbler down, his arms wrapping around his brilliant lover and pulling her closer. Her eyes were glittering at the promise of power and he knew that she would be an unstoppable force if she got her way. He loved her all the more for it. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He teased, smirk feral and eyes wide as a hand gripped her tightly and his teeth nipped at her lips. “What if I put another baby in you, to fawn over and coddle, just like Lyra? Hm?” Asriel continued voice low and thick with lust. “Make you a housewife and a mother to all my children,” he continued to tease; knowing it was absolutely not what either of them wanted for their life. 

Marisa gasped, as if scandalised by the mere notion of it all, shaking her head as a hand wound it’s way into his hair and gave a sharp tug. “ _Never_ ,” she breathed wildly, capturing his lips in a searing, heated kiss.


	3. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot longer then I thought it would be. I'm also unsure about Asriel's characterisation so I hope he's not too OOC.
> 
> 'Slipping Through My Fingers' by ABBA is a good song to accompany the chapter. Also, the inspiration for the title chapter.

**she’s slipping through my fingers**

* * *

The first day of school can, at times, be an emotional and hazardous experience. And in the Belacqua Manor, that morning was no different. 

Lyra was now five and bubbling over with energy. School was going to be a big, new adventure and Lyra was excited for it! She'd never been around so many other children before; there was Tony and Billy Costa, Mrs. Costa’s sons but she got bored of them sometimes. Tony was already in school and didn't much like taking orders from Lyra and Billy was practically still a baby. 

School was going to be fun. There was going to be all new people to meet and new spaces to explore. She knew almost every nook and cranny of the Manor. It was like a dream come true for Lyra. 

But it seemed like her excitement wasn’t shared by her mother. Not that Lyra was giving much thought to her Mother at _all_ that morning. She’d pulled her uniform on almost as soon as she’d awoken and though she didn’t much like the red and blue plaid dress her mother insisted she couldn’t get dirty, or the shiny Mary Janes she had to wear for school; she felt very much like a big girl. 

She ate her breakfast fast and let Mother style her hair with clips and ribbons and two plaits down to her shoulders. The excitement was palpable for Lyra and by the time it was time to leave, she was already bouncing eagerly by the door, rucksack already on her back. Her father was already beside her, coat on and looking as bored as Lyra was excited; but mother was somewhere in the Manor, taking her time and Lyra would not stand for it. 

“Mummy!” She whined in a huff, little brows furrowing as she gazed up at her father, hoping he’d get Mother to appear. “I gotta go to _school_! I’m gonna be late,” she complained, stamping her little feet in frustration, glaring at him in a look so reminiscent of Marisa that Asriel was stunned for a moment. 

“Don’t be silly Lyra. You have plenty of time to get to school,” Asriel replied, watching as Lyra huffed in annoyance. His amusement at his child was short lived as Marisa came sweeping slowly into the foyer, fingers fiddling with the thin watch attached to her wrist. She seemed not to have a care in the world and Asriel’s eyebrows rose. 

The cool, calm exterior didn’t fool him, she’d been a wreck for days leading up to this. Apparently, Lyra starting school had brought about some feelings in Marisa; the kind that always popped up when Lyra was involved. School was a step to Lyra gaining independence and becoming her own little person, not that she wasn’t already, but it seemed that Lyra starting school was causing Marisa to lose her already tenuous grip on moulding their child into a mini version of herself. 

The thought of another Marisa running around the place was actually quite scary for Asriel. Marisa herself was hard enough to control, Asriel couldn’t imagine what it’d be like if Lyra turned out anything like her. Not that he didn’t love Marisa of course, but one of her was most definitely enough. 

“Well,” Marisa started, eyeing father and daughter curiously, a wide sweet smile settling on her features. “What are we waiting around for? Don’t we have to be getting someone to school?” Marisa continued, voice light and charming, as if Lyra and Asriel hadn’t been waiting on her for ten minutes already. 

“Yes, yes! I gotta go to school!” Lyra exclaimed in answer to her mother’s rhetorical question, smiling just like Marisa. “Come on!” 

Asriel shook his head at mother and daughter, watching them as Marisa took Lyra’s hand, gripping tightly as she lead them out the door. He knew it was all a facade. Lyra was _too_ excited about going to school and leaving the Manor, according to the dreary commiserating Marisa had been doing just the night before. The last several weeks truly had been filled with _Lyra this_ and _Lyra that_ out of Marisa’s mouth and Asriel had had half a mind to take a trip just to get away from it all. 

The drive to school didn’t take long, after all the primary school was only 20 minutes into town. But even in that short time, Asriel could see that Marisa was slowly losing her composure. Her need to have a watchful eye over Lyra and have her under her thumb was almost overwhelming at times and Asriel was sure that now Lyra was starting school, it’d get infinitely worse. Just driving their child to her first day of school seemed to make the woman tense. 

Pulling up in front of the school, Asriel was less than impressed. If he could, he’d have shipped her off to a boarding school but Lyra was still too young. Which meant the local primary school would have to do for now and he’d have a few more years to convince Marisa of the virtues of boarding school. 

Lyra’s face was pressed to the glass of the window, eyes wide as she looked on in awe at the new environment and all the children milling about. Surprisingly, she waited until Marisa had exited the car before climbing out after her, reaching for her mother’s hand. The gesture was most likely an unconscious one but Asriel could see how it warmed Marisa, even if he knew the grip she had on the child’s hand was too tight. 

“Daddy, are you coming?” Lyra asked, casting a glance back at him curiously, her expression a picture perfect rendition of Marisa. 

Asriel simply grunted his reply, following along with Marisa and Lyra. They certainly made a sight, the three of them. Asriel in his disheveled sweater and slacks set, Lyra in her perfect little school uniform and Marisa in a gorgeous blue, silk wrap dress and heels. It was very obvious that they stood out amongst the other parents about the school. It was clear that they came from more money then most of the other people in the area, though it was hardly something Asriel even cared to dwell on. 

They stayed for half an hour, meeting her teacher, Marisa charming the woman with ease. Asriel simply watched along from the side, eager to get back to the Manor and to his work. He could see the tears welling in Marisa’s eyes as the first bell rang and the teacher announced it was time for class to begin. Of course, his lover didn’t let them fall, she’d never do anything so gauche as to cry in public, let alone at her child’s school. 

She bent down so she was eye level with her child, hands sweeping away at the stray hairs around Lyra’s face as she spoke to her. “I’ll miss you. I’ll be right here to pick you up this afternoon,” Marisa told her with a smile, trying to keep their child’s attention even as Lyra fidgeted away, eager to go to class. 

“A’right! Bye mummy! Bye daddy!” Lyra exclaimed, smile bright as she gave Marisa a quick hug. She pulled away easily, before her mother’s hold could tighten and was off, running towards her teacher and the rest of her class. She didn’t look back, too wrapped up in her new environment to see the thunderous expression on her mother’s face. 

* * *

“She didn’t even _care_ Asriel!” Marisa exclaimed, as she sprawled herself across the sofa in Asriel’s study, a pout on her lips. 

Asriel wasn’t looking at his lover as she spoke, too absorbed in his equations and calculations to really pay attention to her. He simply grunted a reply at her, as was his tendency to do, knowing at times that Marisa simply liked to _rant_. 

He heard a huff escape his beautiful, belligerent lover and it wasn’t until he heard the door to his study slam shut that he even noticed Marisa had left the room. By the way the door and windows rattled, Asriel knew that Marisa hadn’t needed to just rant; she’d wanted him to actually _contribute_ to the conversation. A sigh escaped him as he set his work down, steeling himself to follow Marisa out of the room and deal with his irate lover. 

It was easy enough to find her, though he was surprised by her location. He simply had to follow the sounds of slamming doors and banging pots. Asriel’s eyebrows rose in amusement as he stood in the door way of the kitchen, a place neither of them spent much time in at all. They had staff, of course. There was no need for them personally to be in the kitchen except when Marisa was making her famous hot chocolate. 

Which, Asriel realised, was exactly what she was doing. 

“Isn’t it a bit early for hot chocolate?” He mused, arms crossed as he regarded the dark haired woman moving angrily around the kitchen. 

All he got back in return was a haughty glare. He knew Marisa was simply trying to make herself feel better. Chocolate always helped with that. 

Neither of them spoke for several long moments, Marisa still angrily making herself a hot chocolate and Asriel watching her. It was as she was mixing the chocolate and milk together that Marisa finally spoke, eyes blazing with annoyance as she looked over at Asriel. 

“She didn’t even look _back_ Asriel. She didn’t even care!” Marisa snapped, pouting almost pitifully. If it had been any other woman, Asriel would have thought them pathetic but it wasn’t. It was Marisa and Asriel knew that Marisa hated when things were not under her control; Lyra being most definitely one of those things. 

“She is _five_ Marisa,” Asriel stated, bemused more than anything. 

“I am her mother! This was her first day of school. She should have wanted to never leave my side,” Marisa mused sourly, still clearly upset by the events of the morning, though she shouldn’t have been. 

At this of course, Asriel had to resist the urge to roll his eyes or make some kind of smart comment. It was very clear to him that Marisa was on a precarious edge and he didn’t particularly feel like getting into a fight with her. Not when he should be focusing on his work instead. 

“It’s the first day, the newness will wear off. Besides, Marisa, she’s always been an independent child. You shouldn’t be surprised,” he told her roughly, preparing himself to get out of harms way in case her temper took a turn. She’d never actually hurt him, in all the years they’d been together, but he didn’t fancy having to deal with her more violent tendencies. 

Marisa pouted, glaring at him. “It doesn’t matter. She should’ve been more…”

“More what?” Asriel interrupted, barely able to keep the scoff out of his voice. Marisa’s flair for dramatics, though rare, could at times be so tedious. It was one of the only flaws Asriel found in Marisa that he didn’t like. “Dramatic? Upset?” 

A long suffering sigh left her then, as she turned to focus on the hot chocolate, deciding it was done and pouring it carefully into the mug she’d set out beside the stove. “If you’re just here to be a bastard, then go back to your study and your research!” Marisa snapped, turning to glare at Asriel from over her shoulder. 

She turned back to her hot chocolate then, taking a small sip, choosing to ignore Asriel as he moved further into the kitchen and towards her. She was steadfast in her refusal to turn around for him, even as he slipped both hands around her hips, squeezing tightly and pressing her against the counter. 

Asriel laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to her neck. “I’m always a bastard,” he reminded her. “It’s only her first day of school, of course she’s excited. There’s no need to be _jealous_ ,” Asriel continued teasingly, his voice smug. 

“I’m not jealous,” Marisa drawled, pushing his hands away and slipping out of his grasp. “I simply think we could have homeschooled her. We’re two of the smartest people in the country, Asriel. We could certainly have taught her more than that simple primary school we’ve sent her too,” Marisa continued with a huff, turning to face him and leaning back against the counter, a troubled expression on her features. 

Asriel laughed at her words, shaking his head at her. The whole idea was delusional and he’d told her as much a month ago, when she’d first suggested homeschooling to him. 

“And just let our own work fall to the wayside? My research would be stalled and your project would be all for naught. Is that _really_ what you want?” His voice was haughty and as he watched her expression change, he knew he’d beaten her. Just as he had a month ago and by the way her eyes narrowed at him, Marisa knew it too. 

Marisa chose to ignore him then, taking another sip of her hot chocolate but Asriel could tell it wasn’t helping to calm her down. It was unfortunate, of course, Marisa did love her chocolate and despite the fact he had work to do, he had a much more pleasing idea of how to calm her down. 

Asriel took a step towards Marisa, his hand reaching out to pluck the half empty mug from her hand with ease and placing it down on the bench top behind her. Marisa didn’t fight him over it, her arms moving to cross over her chest as she eyed him with disdain, a mask of indifference slipping over her features as he trapped her against the counter and pressed his body close to hers. 

“You know, there is an advantage to having her out of the house for 6 hours a day,” Asriel told her firmly, dark eyes finding her own as a smirk grew on his lips. 

“Is there?” Marisa replied challengingly, voice light as her head tilted up towards him. 

“Of course,” Asriel nodded, using a hand to uncross her arms and wrap around her waist, pulling her closer. “It’ll be a good distraction,” he reassured her, voice low and husky as he pressed a rough kiss to her lips. 

A distraction indeed. 

* * *

Three o’clock rolled around faster then Marisa realised after their little midday romp. Asriel had refused to come and pick Lyra up with her, mumbling something about being too busy and needing to catch up on work. Marisa was absolutely fine with that, she wanted to spend the afternoon with Lyra all to herself anyway. 

The school bell rang and after a moment or two, a wide, genuine smile grew on Marisa’s face. “Mother!” Lyra called out excitedly, running full speed out of her class room and straight towards Marisa. Her hair had come loose, falling out of her plaits, a ribbon missing from around one end and looking far more dishevelled then Marisa would ever usually allow but for now, she couldn’t care less. 

“Lyra, darling!” She exclaimed, squatting down as Lyra ran full tilt into her arms, hugging her eagerly. Marisa squeezed her close, happy to have her daughter back in her arms and eager to get her home. “Did you have a good day today?” She enquired, finally pulling back to look at Lyra’s face, though keeping her hands firmly around her child. 

Lyra sighed, her expression flitting between emotions before nodding her head excitedly. “Yes! I made friends! And I ran around with Tony Costa! And they have a _playground_ ,” Lyra started, her words running together as she bounced on the balls of her feet. Her little nose scrunched up in distaste then, reminding Marisa so strongly of Asriel, it was like she was looking at the man himself. “But my teacher’s _mean_. She said I was telling lies! But I wasn’t Mama, I _promise_ ,” Lyra continued, a slight whine to her voice. 

Usually Marisa would scold her for the whine in her tone but she was far too pleased that Lyra’s first day at school hadn’t been as perfect as she’d been envisioning. She pressed a kiss to Lyra’s forehead, hands smoothing out her daughter’s unruly hair before standing up and grinning at her child. 

“I believe you. How about you and I go have afternoon tea?” Marisa suggested, taking Lyra’s hand and guiding her towards their chauffeured car. “And you can tell me all about your mean teacher,” she whispered conspiratorially, smiling down at Lyra. 

“Yes!” Lyra agreed enthusiastically, beaming up at her mother. Her first day of school had been great.


	4. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter does involve mild depictions of child abuse and violence. If this offends or triggers you, this chapter may not be for you. Please read carefully.

**the family torn asunder requires the gentlest stitch**   
**part i**

* * *

Lyra hears the slap before she fully registers what she’s seeing. She was meant to be sleeping but she’d heard voices, one of them being her father’s. So she’d shot up, out of bed, ready to greet him eagerly. Only to realise that the voices of her parents were angry, they were fighting and Lyra had never seen her parents fight before. Sure they argued and she knew they got cross with each other, but she had never heard them like this. 

She crept down the hall, slowly and quietly. If her parents were angry enough to be yelling at each other she didn’t want them to notice her. She’d been coming up against her mother’s temper ever since they’d arrived in London and she did not want to get on her bad side tonight. Peaking around the wall, into the living room, she frowns in confusion and concern. 

“Are you going to _hit me_?” Marisa growls, eyes alight and tilting her chin upwards, challengingly at Asriel. His hand comes up, almost as if he were going to hit her but instead his fingers clasp around her chin tightly, fingertips pressing into her pale skin and leaving imprints. 

“Don’t tempt me Marisa,” he hisses out, pushing her away roughly, making her stumble backwards. She sneers at him as she steadies herself on the back of the armchair that is situated behind her. Her hand clasps around the fabric tightly, fingernails digging into the chair, wishing she could take her anger out on Asriel instead. 

Her mother smiles, a dark smile creeping along her features, ready to retort cruelly at her father; until her eyes settle on Lyra. The smile disappears instantly, her brows knitting in worry, shoulders tensing as she realises Lyra is there. Lyra gasps, knowing she’s been caught, her eyes wide and she’s frozen in fear, wondering what her mother will do. 

“Lyra,” Mother breathes, voice low and breathy. 

And Asriel scoffs, shaking his head and running a hand through his wild, greying hair, thinking she’s simply trying to deflect and manipulate. 

“Don’t try and bring-”

But Marisa ignores him, focused on the child, stepping forwards. “What are you doing out of bed?” She snaps and Lyra takes a few steps back, suddenly afraid. 

Asriel whips around then, an annoyed growl escaping him as he finally lays eyes on his daughter. It’s the first time he’s seen her in eight months and really, Lyra thinks he should be _happier_ about seeing her, not scowling at her like he is. Her silent hope that he’d come to take her home with him was quickly dashed by the look on his face. 

He hadn’t come for her at all. 

“I...I heard voices,” Lyra stutters, glancing between her mother and father, suddenly cross. “I wanted to see my Father,” she continues, spitting out the word as if it’s a curse. Her eyes are fiery as they land on Asriel and her throat tightens when she realises he doesn’t even seem to _care_. 

“Your father was just leaving. Now back to bed,” her mother insists, stepping forward to usher her back down the hallway but Lyra darts away from her, stepping into the living room and glaring defiantly. 

“No!” Lyra articulates, boiling with rage at both of her parents. 

Mother had been _mean_ since they’d been in London and Father had been **absent**. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t her parents just be _normal_?

“Lyra, you heard your mother!” Asriel finally speaks, stepping forward to frown down at his child. 

He can’t just come in here, acting like her father _now_. It’s the first thing he’s said to her in _months_ , the first time he’s seen her in fact and Lyra doesn’t know what comes over her. 

She launches herself at her father, arms swinging and snarling like an animal. She is so _angry_ she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She feels her hands and feet connect a few times before she’s sprawled on the floor of her and mother’s living room, the wind knocked out of her. Her father hadn’t _smacked_ her but he’d pushed her away strong enough that she’d landed hard and had the wind knocked out of her. 

“Asriel!” She hears her mother snap, as if her own hands had never been rough with her, had never hurt or marked her. 

Lyra is still on the floor, still glaring as she tries to inhale deeply. She pushes herself up, not surprised to find her mother kneeling by her side and reaching her hands out to help her. But Lyra is having none of it. She pushes her mother’s hands away and crawls backwards, glaring at her Mother and Father. Her back hits the other couch and she uses it to help pull herself up, breathing heavily as she glares at both her parents, the anger still bubbling over inside of her.

“Lyra…” Asriel starts, his brows furrowed, and it almost seems as if he’s worried. 

But, if he was so worried about her, Lyra reckons with herself, he wouldn’t have just left her alone with her mother for eight months! He’d have come seen her. He’d have shown up before now. 

“I hate you!” Lyra yells, eyes flicking between both of her parents. “I hate _both of you_! I wish you weren’t my parents!” she continues and she can see the anger return to her mother’s face. 

Before her mother could move closer however, Lyra sprung around the couch and ran. She could feel the tears blurring her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She tumbles into her room quickly, slamming the door shut behind her, grateful her mother had seen fit to purchase a flat with locks and locking it. She grabbed her coat and shoved her feet into her shoes before pushing her window open and climbing out of it. 

She was a good climber and she was going to climb away from her parents. She hated them! She truly did. 

Marisa darted after her daughter, once the shock of the girls’ words had passed. She couldn’t _believe_ the disrespect of her child. 

“Lyra!” She shouts, seeing her daughter’s door slam shut and seething further. She strides quickly down the hall, not bothering to see if Asriel is following, her only focus was Lyra. She twisted the handle, trying to push it open and letting out a growl as it wouldn’t budge. 

“Lyra! Open the door. Now!” She shouts through the door, a hand smacking against the wood angrily. “Lyra!” 

“Enough!” Asriel grunts, a hand wrapping around her arm and pulling her away. “Leave her. It’s locked anyway,” he continues, shaking his head at the whole situation. What parent let their eight year old have a lock on their door anyway?

Marisa huffs, glaring at her ex-lover. “This is all your fault!” she snaps, moving away from Lyra’s door and heading for her own bedroom. She yanks open a drawer on her vanity with a force that almost breaks it and to no surprise of Asriel’s, produces a key. “Showing up here like this! Look what you’ve done, upsetting her!” She snarls back at him, pushing past him roughly and heading back for Lyra’s door. 

She is focused on her task, knowing it’s an invasion of privacy but right now she doesn’t care. Lyra is a _child_. She needs to make sure her daughter is okay. The key turns with ease and she pushes the door open slowly, resisting the urge to hurtle into the room and rush to her daughter. 

Her eyes flick quickly around the room, eyes wide as she see’s the open window of Lyra’s room. She gasps, knowing immediately that Lyra has run away. She should never have left the locks on Lyra’s bedroom door. 

“Marisa-”

“She’s gone!” Marisa gasps, interrupting him. 

“What?” Asriel questions, barging into the room behind her and noticing what she does straight away. The door had been locked and her window is open. Lyra is not in her room; there’s no other explanation. She’s very obviously, run away. 

“Unless you’re going to help me find our daughter, get out. We were doing _fine_ before you showed up,” Marisa hissed, eyes burning holes into the man as she pushed past him once again. 

Asriel simply sighed, contemplating just leaving but as he watched Marisa pull on her coat, he knew he couldn’t. If he did that, if he just left now, he knew there was no chance of Marisa and Lyra coming back. That was the whole reason he’d even come to London; to get his lover and daughter back. Of course, his plans had been derailed when he’d found out she’d been sleeping with Boreal. The man was a snake and grated on his nerves. 

With a sigh, he followed after her, snatching his own coat back up off the sideboard and pulling it on. “Where would she go?” he asked, still angry but slowly cooling down. 

As they stepped into the elevator, he could still see Marisa’s hands shaking, her anger contained for the moment but simmering under the surface, waiting to explode. Asriel reaches out across the elevator, closing his hand around hers and giving it a squeeze, keeping it still. Marisa takes a deep breath, turning to look at him after a moment, her palm opening to cling to his tightly. 

The doors closed on them then, as they descend to search for their daughter. Together for now.


	5. Four

**for all the stars in the world, yours sadly burnt out first**

* * *

Lyra is nearly seven and simply thinks her mother is getting fat, like the cook down in their kitchen or the administration lady at her school. She would never actually say that to her mother though; her mother is always scolding her about being _rude_. So, she is surprised when her mother pulls her close to cuddle her in bed, a hand resting on the slightly pudgy swell of her belly. 

“Lyra,” her Mother starts, turning to look her in the eye, her free hand playing with Lyra’s still long strands. “Do you know what _pregnant_ means?” she continues and there’s a hesitant, hopeful look in her eye. 

Lyra shakes her head, no. Because she doesn’t. She frowns, eyes dropping from her mother’s face down to the hand she’s rubbing along her belly. She has a feeling it might be something to do with Mother getting fat. She’s not sure she _wants_ to know.

Marisa chuckles lightly, watching her young daughter for a moment. She wished Lyra was a little bit older, she was at an awkward age to explain this to. Especially when Marisa knew this would no doubt set off questions about where babies came from and Marisa certainly didn’t want to have those conversations with Lyra just yet. 

But Lyra _was_ going to be a big sister and though her child could be a brat, she had a feeling her daughter would take to the role. 

“Well, pregnant means that I’m going to have a baby,” Marisa told her, once Lyra’s eyes had moved back up to look at hers and not her stomach. “You’re going to be a big sister, Lyra. Isn’t that exciting?” Marisa continued, trying to coax out the excited response from her daughter that she was finding it hard to muster for herself. 

Lyra’s brows furrowed and her face scrunched in confusion at her Mother’s words. “Where you goin’ to get a _baby_?” She asked, head tilting up to look at her mother curiously. 

“Oh, darling,” Marisa laughs, taking one of Lyra’s little hands and guiding it towards her growing stomach. “The baby is growing _inside_ of me. See? Soon they’ll get bigger and bigger and start moving around. _You_ were a very wiggly baby,” Marisa told her, still smiling widely. 

Her daughter’s eyes go wide and her mouth drops open, face aghast at her words. “Was I inside ya?” 

“Of course,” Marisa soothes. “Mother’s grow their babies inside them, to keep them safe until they’re born,” she tells her, pulling her into a hug. 

She rubs her back and presses kisses to her forehead, asking her if she has anymore questions and if she wants to sleep in Mother’s bed for the night. Lyra says yes, she’s never thought about where baby’s come from before and if she _came_ from her Mother, then sharing her bed seemed only natural. Besides that, Mother and Father’s bed was big and comfortable and had such soft pillows and blankets; Lyra always liked it better when she got to share a bed with Mother. 

* * *

The weeks go by and Mother’s stomach grows and Father is home more and Lyra still isn’t sure how she feels about it all. Her father pays much more attention to her mother now, especially when she is feeling sick. Some nights she tries to snuggle her way into her parent’s bed, between them but Father always sends her firmly off to bed in her own room and it makes her so angry she wishes he would just go away on one of his trips. 

She is sulky and agitated except when it’s just her and Mother. 

Marisa, however, seems to enjoy Asriel doting on her while she’s pregnant. Her feelings, when she’d first found out she was pregnant were conflicted. She’d been making strides in her work and she’d worried that her pregnant state would undermine her authority and her respect. It was Asriel that had comforted her and reminded her that she was brilliant, that pregnant or not, she was essentially the boss and that it was her initial work that her subordinates were working on. 

The stroking to her ego did wonders. Asriel knew her, inside and out and having him around for this pregnancy was something Marisa found herself enjoying. She’d realised that this was what they’d both missed out on while she’d been pregnant with Lyra and was surprised by how happy she was that they were _both_ getting the chance to be there, a second time around. 

Marisa worried though, that Lyra wouldn’t take to her sibling. 

“Lyra, darling, come here a moment,” Marisa calls, as she see’s her daughter darting about outside, playing with the stray cat they can’t seem to get rid of. Asriel has no mind to rid the property of the stray, despite Marisa’s continued assertions that it could be diseased and that it could pass something onto Lyra. She knows it’s a reach but really, it wasn’t like she was asking for a lot. She had half a mind to just kill it herself and get rid of it. 

“I’m playing!” Lyra whines, through the open patio doors as Marisa watches her on the well looked after lawn. The young girl isn’t even looking at Marisa, too occupied playing with that _stupid_ cat. 

“Lyra, _now_ ,” Marisa asserts. She doesn’t want to have a fight. She’d been planning a nice activity for the day, if only Lyra would just _listen_. 

Her seven year old huffs and turns to her as if she is a teenager and not still a child. Scarily, Marisa can see a young version of herself in the girl and she isn’t sure whether to be horrified or proud. She settles a little on both as she watches her daughter come closer; she’d much rather her not be as reckless as her father. If that meant being a little more like her, then Marisa didn’t see a problem with that. 

“Yes?” Lyra replies, arms crossing and eyes boring up into her Mother’s. Marisa is silently grateful that Asriel isn’t around to see this, for Lyra’s attitude is all Marisa and she knows he would not stop his endless teasing if he saw. 

Still, Lyra is the child and she is her Mother. This attitude would not do, but Marisa takes a deep breath, a hand closing into a tight fist and then releasing. Lyra is _seven_ , there is no point in starting a whole ordeal over a little bit of attitude. So instead, she curbs her natural instinct and smiles down at her daughter. 

“How would you like to come see the baby with me today?” Marisa asks, tone light as she makes the suggestion to her daughter. She can see the confusion on her child’s face. 

“See the baby?” Lyra echoes, suddenly supremely curious, her young eyes flicking down to her mother’s round belly and back up to her eyes again. 

“Mhm. You and I can go to the doctors and they can show us the baby on a machine. We can even find out if you’ll have a baby brother or sister,” Marisa enticed, words lilting and pleasant as she spoke. 

“They can do that?” Lyra asks in wonder, eyes wide as she gazes up at her mother. Marisa grins, nodding her head and ushering the child into the house. 

“Yes, they can. Science and medicine can do...glorious things,” Marisa tells her as she directs her towards the bathroom. Lyra doesn’t even have to ask why, she knows her mother wants her to wash her hands after playing with that cat. She does so quickly, even though she’s still bubbling over with curiosity instead. 

Marisa is thinking, of course, not of the wonders of modern medicine but of her scientific research that is on the pinnacle of being fully realised and of the project she is developing. Growing a child is wondrous but what she’s trying to do, what she’s creating with her work, is going to be spectacular. 

* * *

Marisa had dressed Lyra in a sweet little pinafore dress and tights, hair done in a simple ponytail for their day out together. She’d tried to wrap a ribbon around Lyra’s hair but her daughter had refused and Marisa relented, though she couldn’t help pouting a little, as childish as she knew it was. The ribbon would’ve tied the whole little outfit together cutely but she was starting to realise that Lyra was very much a young girl that was her own person. 

It wasn’t something Marisa liked to contemplate really, the fact that her child was no longer young and pliable anymore. She’d often wondered, in the quiet of the night, if that was why she’d let herself fall pregnant again. For years she’d been against another child but she couldn’t help feeling Lyra’s growing independence had in some way played a part in her lax use of contraception. She’d spent the last five years successfully _avoiding_ pregnancy scares. 

Had she secretly wanted another child? She didn’t think so. But here she was, almost six months pregnant after swearing that she’d only have one child. 

The thought had grown, just as the baby had. It was a little unsettling to think she had done this to herself, instead of it being the accident she told herself it was. Another baby would grow, just as Lyra had and she knew that she couldn’t keep having children when the other’s started being their own little people. Two would have to be it for them and as she and Lyra strode into the obstetricians office, she wondered if she could convince Asriel to get a vasectomy. 

Glancing down at Lyra as they sat in the waiting room, she couldn’t help but notice the girl looked equal parts curious and afraid. Suddenly, Marisa had the thought that maybe this hadn’t been a great way to spend a day with Lyra but it was far too late to do anything about it now. 

“Is everyone here gonna have a baby?” Lyra whispered, her mouth right next to Marisa’s ear as she kneeled on her chair, hands around her arm. 

Marisa wished she’d thought to bring along the iPad, something to distract her child. Though that didn’t usually last in keeping Lyra entertained for long, it would’ve done for the moment. The baby was kicking and she needed to use the bathroom; it was one of the things she hated so passionately about these appointments. 

“Most of them, yes,” Marisa replied, after taking a breath, trying to calm herself. Her uncomfortableness didn’t mean she should snap at her daughter. In fact, she should be happy her child was so curious. “This is a special doctors for people that are going to have babies,” she continued, smiling tiredly at her child. 

Lyra rested back on her heels, face screwed up as she glanced around the waiting room. “They ain’t all look like they havin’ babies,” she stated plainly, glancing back up at Marisa as if she wasn’t telling the truth. 

Thankfully, Marisa was saved from having to form a reply by the nurse calling out her name. She stood gracefully, which was a feat considering the child she was growing and took Lyra’s hand, smiling sweetly as the nurse as they followed her. As they entered the empty examine room, she directed Lyra to sit and to not distract the doctor or nurse as she sat up on the exam table. She was glad she’d opted for the ensemble she had that morning as she pulled the blouse out from the skirt she was wearing, knowing it’d be easy to arrange again once they were done. 

Her doctor came in then and they chatted amicably for several moments, though Marisa wished the woman would just get on with it. Lyra spoke politely as Marisa introduced her and she was supremely pleased by the manners her daughter exhibited. Which wasn’t always the case when it came to Lyra. 

The gel was cool on her swollen stomach but Marisa didn’t flinch. She’d learnt long ago never to let it show when things got to her and now it was simply an ingrained reaction. She relaxed back, turning her head to look at Lyra, lips twisting upwards at the curious expression on her child’s face. 

She could feel the transducer on her stomach and then looked back towards the doctor and the screen. Her doctor spoke, assuring her everything looked good and the baby was progressing as she took notes and measurements. Then she turned, smiling at Marisa and then glancing towards Lyra. 

“Would you like to know the sex of the baby?” The doctor asked, moving the transducer wand across her stomach to find the right position. 

“Yes,” Marisa replied clearly, nodding. She extended a hand out to Lyra then, who was starting to fidget, and beckoned her forward. “Lyra. The Doctors going to tell us if the baby is a boy or a girl now. Come look.”

At her mother’s words, Lyra looked a little more interested, bolting up off her seat and coming to stand by her mother. She pressed against the exam table, watching her mother and the doctor and the screen. “I can’t see it?” Lyra asked, head tilted and brows furrowed in confusion. 

The doctor chuckled then and Marisa frowned. She didn’t like her laughing at her child.

“On the screen, darling. This,” she gestured to the wand as it pressed against her stomach, “can see inside my stomach. There’s the baby,” Marisa explained, leaning forward a little as she used a hand to point towards the screen, fingers outlining the shape of the baby. 

Lyra’s face was staring intently then at the screen, pressing against Marisa as she tried to get a better look. “Cool,” she whispered softly. She turned to look at her mother, then towards the doctor, as if waiting for the doctor to start talking. 

The doctor for her part, had to smile, seeing the same expression on both mother and daughter’s faces. It was unsettling in a way and she quickly turned back to the screen, moving the transducer a little to get a better look. 

“Well, by all accounts, you’ll be having another little girl. You’ll have a baby sister,” the doctor told them, directing her last words towards Lyra, smiling brightly at the pair. 

“Another girl?” Marisa breathed, eyes wide. She’d expected a boy, she’d had a feeling since she’d found out she was pregnant that the baby would be a boy. The thought had never even crossed her mind that she would have another daughter. 

“Yes. Would you like some photos?” 

Marisa nodded, still a little stunned. “Please. Thank you,” Marisa replied, taking the wipe the doctor handed to her and cleaning the gel off of her round stomach. 

She sat up, pulling her blouse back down over her stomach and shifting so her legs rested over the edge of the bed. Lyra stood, fidgeting against the bed watching with interest as the doctor turned away and began printing out copies of the photos. Marisa stood, smiling down at Lyra as she reached over to pick up her hand bag, her other hand smoothing over Lyra’s head and hair as they stood and waited. 

It was only another moment as Lyra rocked eagerly against her mother, before the doctor turned with the photos in hand. She popped them into an envelope and scrawled a name and date across the front. The doctor handed them over then and Marisa thanked her before turning, taking Lyra’s hand and leading her out of the room. 

Lyra bounded along beside her mother, wanting to look at the photos to see if she could pick out her baby sister. But Marisa had already put them in her hand bag. Lyra wanted to ask about her baby sister but she wasn’t quite sure what, luckily Marisa started to speak as they left the doctors office. 

“Are you hungry Lyra? Shall we go to lunch and then go shopping?” Marisa asked, looking eagerly down at her daughter.

“Yes, please,” Lyra breathed enthusiastically, nodding eagerly as she followed her mother. They were in London, a place Lyra had only been once and she barely remembered that last time. Her mother hailed a cab and ushered Lyra into it first before stepping behind her, giving the driver the name of a restaurant only. 

Marisa watched as Lyra looked out the window, seeming enthralled and intrigued by all the sights. She wondered if they should bring Lyra to London more, get her out of the country and around new things. She had a feeling Lyra would like London. A hand rubbed over her growing stomach and Marisa decided that once the baby was born and a few months old, that they should spend the weekend here in London as a family. 

In fact, once the baby was a few years old, Marisa couldn’t help but imagine that she and Asriel could take them on a trip abroad somewhere. Most probably Europe, nowhere too far away considering their youngest daughter would most likely still be a toddler. They had never taken Lyra on any trips like that and she realises now that, that was probably a mistake. 

She’d bring it up with Asriel once they got home. She doubted he’d be happy by any mention of a vacation, even if it was a moment for the future but she was sure she could persuade him. 

The cab pulled up outside the restaurant and Marisa paid the fair with a sweet smile, stepping out of the cab and pulling Lyra along with her. Lunch was fancy but not too fancy that it was unfortunate to eat there with a child; it wasn’t a place Marisa had gone often but she knew it was child friendly at least. Afterwards, she and Lyra strolled down Bond and Oxford Streets and through Covent Gardens and into Harrods. 

They didn’t buy much for themselves, surprisingly. Though Marisa insisted on some new clothes for Lyra. Eventually they’d ended up in a boutique baby clothes store and Lyra’s excitement at the little baby dresses and pink booties had overwhelmed her. By the time they’d gotten back to their countryside estate, they’d each had several bags on their hands and Asriel had beaten them home. 

It had been a wonderful bonding day for the both of them and Marisa realised she was as excited for the new baby as Lyra was. 

* * *

Lyra hears the scream, the cry coming from the room her mother was giving birth in, as a nurse enters the room. Her brows furrow and she glances up at Mrs. Costa, whose face looks worried in a way that it hadn’t been in the whole time they’d been there. Father is away at Oxford, once again and it’s just been Lyra and her mother and Lyra doesn’t know how, but she knows something is wrong. Mrs. Costa reaches to pull her close but Lyra is fast and darts into the room quickly, stopping short just in front of the door at the scene she is bearing witness to. 

There is blood and there is her mother, crying unrestrainedly in anguish. Is mother hurt? Is she dying? Lyra’s breath speeds up, her heart pounding; her eyes sweep the room and land on a woman hovering over a silent, blue baby. 

Her mother is still crying, still hysterical, though Lyra can just make out the garbled, choked sobs. _“No...no! She can’t be! Make her breathe...don’t stop! You let my child_ **_die!_ ** _”_

And it’s then, that Lyra realises her baby sister is dead. 

She doesn’t know what takes her over but quicker than lightening, she’s by the table her dead sister is placed upon, staring at the still, silent baby. She thinks, maybe if she begs, if she can get the nurse to make her baby sister okay, her mother will stop crying. 

“Fix her! You’re a doctor, ain’t ya?” She begs the nurse, who looks stunned and unsure how to deal with the young girl whose mother is howling in pain at the loss of her child. 

The nurse shakes her head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart…” 

Lyra hits out at her then, pushing at her and yelling and forgetting herself until she feels a pair of familiar arms wrapping around her waist and lifting her up and away. She fights the hold, tears streaming down her face until she realises it’s Mrs. Costa holding her. They’re out of the room now but Lyra can still hear her mother crying out in her mind and wraps her arms and legs around Mrs. Costa in a tight hold as they sink down onto the seats outside the room. 

She doesn’t quite understand why she’s crying but Mrs. Costa is holding her tightly, whispering to her and stroking her hair just like her mother does and it’s so comforting Lyra relaxes into the touch. She’s barely crying, though her cheeks are still wet and eyes still red rimmed, when she hears her father running down the hallway of the hospital, asking Mrs. Costa what happened. Lyra turns, glad to see her father, in such an emotional and traumatic time but he simply brushes off her hands, barely looking at her as he strides into the room. 

Lyra cuddles into Mrs. Costa, still on her lap and arms wrapped tightly around her when her father eventually steps out of the room, in what feels like hours later. Lyra can’t hear her mother crying anymore and she worries for a moment, breath caught in her throat if she’s dead too. But, as she looks up at her father, he looks tired and sad; if Mother had died, he’d be tearing the place apart in anger. 

“She shouldn’t have been here. Take her home,” Father snaps, after a long moment, his eyes finally focusing on his young daughter. 

She whines a little, in Mrs. Costa’s hold but the hard look she receives from her father is enough to quiet her. Instead, she let’s Mrs. Costa lead her tired little body down the hallway and out of the hospital. They are quiet as they arrive home to the Manor and Mrs. Costa puts her to bed. 

She clings to her blonde Nanny’s hand, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “Can you stay Mrs. Costa? Please?” she whispers quietly, lips trembling. 

“Of course, Lyra. Of course,” Mrs. Costa replies, settling down beside Lyra and holding her tight. 

* * *

It is two days before Marisa leaves the hospital. Asriel had not allowed Lyra to visit her mother in that time and now Lyra was a mess of nervous energy and unsure how to greet her mother. Asriel had explained, in his brief way, what had happened and that her baby sister hadn’t survived. 

The explanation left Lyra unsatisfied and so instead, she asked Mrs. Costa. Her Nanny looked uncomfortable at the question but she explained much better then her father had. Mrs. Costa told her that she should be sweet and gentle with her mother, that her mother would be very sad that they would not have her baby sister around. She explained that losing a child could be utterly heartbreaking, even if the child was only a baby. She said that mother would still love her very much. 

Lyra had nodded intently at the words and determined she would be good for her mother. She hugged her tightly and had hot chocolate with her in her bed, keeping her mother company as she recovered. 

The first funeral Lyra ever attended was that of her baby sisters. It was held a week after her mother arrived home. It was a small, quiet affair; just Marisa, Asriel and Lyra and a priest reading a blessing as the baby was buried in the family cemetery on the west side of the Estate. 

Lyra watched as her mother tried not to cry in her pretty black dress and as her father clutched her mother’s hand tightly, as if attempting to keep her from floating away. Lyra held her mother’s other hand until her father thanked the priest and all three adults turned away, heading back towards the Manor. Lyra watched them for a moment, moving away from the freshly made grave before turning back to it, eyes trained on the gravestone. 

She stepped closer, tracing the name of her dead sister with a finger, before pressing a kiss to the gravestone. 

_Madisyn Celeste Belacqua_

She’d been the one to pick her baby sisters name.


	6. Interlude: Airing Grievances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a bit of an interlude set after Chapter Three: _a family torn asunder requires the gentlest stitch part i_. It's a bit of dialogue, a scene that didn't seem to fit in with other chapters. Hopefully, this will give a little insight into that situation.

**_Interlude: Airing Grievances_ **

* * *

“ _You_ abandoned us, Asriel.” 

The words are whisper quiet, a breath, a _sigh_ , breaking the quiet of the cab they are in. 

Asriel takes a moment, jaw clenching as he absorbs the words. He wants to scoff. He wants to bite back. He wants to argue and cajole her into one. Instead, he turns to gaze at Marisa. 

She is tense, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. He knows, if he were to take her hands and unfold them from their vicious grip, he'd see half a dozen or so crescents imprinted on her palms; the results of her perfectly manicured nails. A habit, he wonders, if she's taken up again since their loss. Since moving to London. 

He wasn't usually gentle with her but he thinks, for once, she needs him to be. 

“I was always coming back,” he states plainly, trying his hardest to keep his emotions in check. He wasn't trying to fight but he wasn't going to take all the blame for the situation they were in. 

Marisa scoffs. 

“I came back from my research trip and you and Lyra were gone. Not a word. That's hardly my fault,” Asriel continued, ignoring her scoff. “You'd run off to London with our _child_ Marisa. What did you expect?” 

“What did _you_ expect?!” Marisa snarled, her temper bubbling to the surface once again. She turned then, her whole body, to glare at Asriel. “Not even six weeks after our… You were off again! Travelling as if nothing had ever happened!” She hisses and Asriel can see the tears of sadness or fury gathering in her eyes. “Did you expect me to stay in that Manor? Wallowing and waiting for you like some desperate housewife? You _never_ should have left.” 

She turns away from him then and he can see she is barely holding it together. For once, he is unsure what to do with her. They'd been unable to find Lyra and after a trip to the local police, both their emotions were fraught. If he tried to explain himself now, something he rarely did and was never good at to begin with, he was sure he'd just make things worse. 

“I shouldn't have,” he said after a long moment of silence. The words barely registering around them. “But I'm here now Marisa. We shall find Lyra and then we shall go home,” Asriel told her, making it clear it was not something to be debated. 

He watched her jaw twitch but was surprised when she said nothing. He reached out, prying a hand open and holding gently. He ignored the faintest touch of moisture on her tender palms. That would be a discussion for another time. 


	7. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not the original chapter five. However, I found more muse for this one. This is part 2, to chapter 3, so go back and read that if you'd like. As well as the interlude. They all take place within the same day/timeframe.

**the family torn asunder requires the gentlest stitch**

**part ii**

* * *

It is just after 10AM when Marisa receives a phone call. She'd been lamenting, drowning her sorrow in 20 year old scotch, sprawled across her expensive couch. She and Asriel had been searching for Lyra all night and at the insistence of the police officers they'd spoken too, had eventually retired to her flat around the early morning. 

Marisa wasn't sure what time they'd gotten in, she just knew that she was exhausted. And by the looks of Asriel, who she had reluctantly let follow her up, he was too. So, instead of doing anything _sensible_ they'd opened a bottle of scotch; Asriel drinking only a few fingers and Marisa a few fingers more. 

She scrambles for her phone, brows furrowing for a moment as the caller I.D. is unknown but answers it nonetheless. “Yes? Hello?” She answers rather rudely, hoping and praying it is someone calling to say they'd found Lyra. 

To her relief, it is. The sergeant, she can't remember his name, puts Lyra on the phone for a moment and Marisa can't remember ever being so happy. Asriel, for his part, has perked up on the couch across from her, clearly realising the importance of the phone call. 

Marisa is loathe to hang up but when she does, she turns her watery eyes and wide smile to Asriel happily. “They found her. Thank God!” She exclaims breathlessly, pushing up off the couch and straightening herself up. 

She busies herself while they wait. Now too anxious and frantic to sit. Asriel is amused, though he keeps his calm exterior. It would do no one any good to see how worried and anxious he'd also been. Marisa was the one, despite how hard she tried to keep herself sedate, that was inexplicably hot tempered. Asriel found that it was easier to be the counterpoint to her hot temperament. 

The elevator arrived with a ding to Marisa’s penthouse floor. Gilded golden doors opening just as Marisa rushed into the hallway, eyes set on her child huddled up in a policeman’s jacket. 

“Lyra!” Marisa cried, rushing forward and all but snatching their child into her arms. 

She paid no attention to the policeman whatsoever, leaving that to Asriel as he stepped out of the living room to witness the reunion. He eyed the police officer with suspicion and curiosity, stepping forward with a nod. 

“Thank you, Officer…” 

“Byrnison, sir. PC Byrnison,” the PC replied, voice gruff as his gaze moved from mother and daughter, up to look at Asriel. 

Asriel extended his hand and PC Byrnison shook it strongly. Asriel didn't like the way the constable was regarding them so wearily. 

“Where did you find my daughter?” Asriel asked, voice deep and commanding. There was no harm in reminding Byrnison that he was a Lord and that their family was far above some lowly police officer. 

Unfortunately, Byrnison took no notice. Or so it seemed. “Your daughter was entertaining herself at the markets. Seems she'd slept in a park shed overnight and then thought she'd try and get some breakfast this morning,” Byrnison told him, amusement pacing his tone, though his eyes still held suspicion. “I caught her trying to steal a bun. I bought it for her, instead. Then we had a nice long chat and she mentioned who she was. That's when I remembered the alert that went out,” the PC replied. 

Asriel glared haughtily as Marisa stood finally. She'd been fussing over Lyra but that hadn't stopped her from listening to the conversation. It was clear to Marisa, by the way the constable had spoken, that Lyra had divulged the argument she'd had with them last night. PC Byrnison was suspicious of them as parents and though she could understand why, their eight year old had run away after all, she was not going to let him get the wrong idea about them. 

Her arms still wound around Lyra as she stood there, keeping her daughter pressed close. A wide, charming smile settled on her lips as she finally looked at the PC. “ _Thank you_ , for taking care of our Lyra, Constable. We are so grateful. We were worried sick but we’re so glad she's home,” Marisa told him, her tone honeyed and almost sickeningly sweet. It was a clear dismissal, she wanted him out of their flat. 

PC Byrnison looked as if he'd taken the hint, nodding his head and turning back to the elevator. He was about to press the down button when suddenly, he turned back around. 

“Forgive me, if I'm overstepping,” Byrnison started, though he didn't sound at all like he was sorry. He pinned Marisa, then Asriel with a knowing stare. “But Lyra mentioned there'd been an argument. That she'd interrupted an argument…Or, gotten into one...” 

Marisa felt Lyra tense in her arms and resisted the urge to glance down at her child. There was no doubt in her mind that Lyra had said something she shouldn't have. Both Asriel and Marisa could so clearly understand what the PC was inferring. 

“A simple family argument,” Marisa interjected before Byrnison could suggest any further. “Nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you. We usually try not to argue in front of Lyra, you see. But noise travels in this flat. Lyra was simply upset,” Marisa continued, lacing her words with half-truths and sincerity. 

“I see,” the Constable replied, giving them a nod. He didn’t look like he believed them. “I'll be off then. The station may want to follow up on a missing child however. Someone may be in touch,” he told them, finally stepping onto the elevator. 

Marisa, Asriel and Lyra watched him as the doors closed; Marisa clinging to Lyra and Asriel hovering just behind them. Byrnison found the sight of the family strangely unsettling. Marisa couldn't help feeling that Byrnison didn't fully believe them but she knew, for now, he'd have no power to do anything about his suspicions. 

* * *

“You can't run off like that Lyra,” Marisa insists, for what felt like the millionth time that day. “You had us so worried! Anything could have happened to you,” she continued, stroking Lyra’s hair as she lead her down the hall. 

Lyra had just gotten out of a bath and Marisa had washed her, towelled her and dressed her, all as if Lyra was a baby again. Lyra complained only mildly at the treatment before realising that instead of the coddling, she could’ve been punished. So, she let her mother dress her in fancy silk pyjamas and lead her into her mother’s room, fussing over her along the way. 

“You need your rest,” Marisa told her child softly, just glad to have her little girl back in her possession. There was a part of her that didn’t want to let Lyra out of her sight ever again but she knew her daughter wouldn’t appreciate her over-bearing presence. Still, she figured she could get away with it for at least the next few days. 

“But I’m not tired,” Lyra replied, as Marisa ushered her up and onto her large bed. Lyra relished in the comfort of her mothers blankets and pillows, cuddling into them as she looked up at her mother. She’d only slept in this bed a few times since they’d been in London; her mother had taken to locking her bedroom door. 

“I know, darling. But you need your rest,” Marisa told her, a genuine smile settling on her lips as she sat on the edge of the bed. She stroked Lyra’s hair, cupping her cheek gently as she spoke. “How about I make us some hot chocolate and we can watch a movie in here, together. Hm?” Marisa suggested, head nodding slightly in encouragement. 

“Okay...can I pick the movie?” Lyra asked, suddenly perking up a little at the special treatment she was receiving. She knew at some point she was going to receive a lecture about her action and behaviour but for now, she was going to bask in her mother’s concern for as long as she could. 

Marisa smiled, leaning forward to press a quick peck to Lyra’s forehead before standing up. “Of course,” she replied, moving over to her dresser and picking up the laptop she’d abandoned there the night before. 

She didn’t have a television in her room, she’d never thought there was a need for it and she wasn’t one to laze around in bed all that often. But, she did have a streaming service on her laptop, one that thankfully Lyra knew how to use. She deposited the laptop on the bed, opening it and putting in the password before finding the appropriate site, only then turning it over to Lyra to let her use it. Technology was useful but she was weary about how much she let her daughter use it. 

Lyra was busy scrolling through movie options as Marisa made her way out of the room. She’d promised Lyra hot chocolate and though it was for her daughter, Marisa needed one just as much. It had been a trying night and morning and as she made her way through the flat towards the kitchen, Marisa could feel the exhaustion hitting her. She’d make them their hot chocolates and bring them to Lyra but she wasn’t sure if she’d manage to make it through a whole movie.

Stepping into the light, gold accented kitchen, she froze for a moment at the figure standing by the bench. She had been so focused on Lyra that she’d completely forgotten Asriel was still there. He was still in the clothes he’d turned up in last night and he looked as tired as she did but the smirk on his face looked infuriatingly fresh. 

“Have you just been lurking this whole time?” Marisa asked, moving through the kitchen to start on making the hot chocolate. Asriel didn’t move from his spot, sipping on what she assumed was coffee. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d added a little something to help it go down smoother and then wondered if she could do the same with the hot chocolate. 

“You seemed to have everything under control,” Asriel replied after a moment, eyes watching her intensely. “Surprised you didn’t drag her here with you. To keep an eye on her,” he continued, amusement heavy in his tone. 

Marisa resisted rolling her eyes, though her lips pursed a little at his words. He always made her out to be so _clingy_ but Lyra was her only living child. It was hardly a crime that she wanted to keep her close. 

“She’s picking a movie,” Marisa told him simply, focused over the pot and milk and chocolate. She gave him a little sideways glance then, the corner of her lips turning upwards in a smirk. “I’d say you could join us. But that’s not really your _thing_ , is it?” 

Asriel simply shakes his head. He knows Marisa is trying to goad him and try as she might, he wasn’t going to fall for it this time. 

With a sigh, he sets his mug down on the marble counter top and takes a step closer to Marisa. He watches her, while she pretends she is not watching him from the corner of her eye. He doesn’t say anything as she mixes the milk and chocolate and then pours them into two mugs. He lets her dust powdered chocolate over the two cups before speaking again. 

“Marry me,” Asriel says. It is not at all romantic or sentimental or sweet. It’s matter of fact, almost a statement. As if he believes she always will. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Marisa snaps then, head turning to look at him with a frown. She searches his eyes, finds that he’s serious and can’t believe the _audacity_ of the man. Her hand itches to slap him like she had the night before. 

Asriel simply chuckles, grinning wildly. He can tell what she wants to do by the twitch of her hand. At least he’d be ready for her this time, unlike last night. 

“It’s not ridiculous. What’s ridiculous is that you still go by _Coulter_ . You were married to him less time then Lyra’s been alive!” Asriel remarks with a smirk. He steps closer, voice low and deep as he catches her eye, pinning her gaze. “Wouldn’t you rather be _Lady_ Belacqua? Imagine the regard you’d have then, if we made it official? You wouldn’t have anyone looking down on you then,” Asriel teased, a hand coming up to settle on her waist as he pulled her closer. He could see the interest sparkling in her eyes. “Lady Marisa Belacqua. It’s like you were born for the name. We should have done it _years_ ago,” he continues his seduction, barely pressing a kiss to her lips before pulling away. He knows she won’t say yes, not now, not yet. His intention had simply been to plant the idea in her head. 

“Yes, we should have,” Marisa says after a moment, voice still light and breathy. She’d lost herself to the moment, had let him intoxicate her as he always had. But she steeled herself against him now, she wasn’t going to succumb to his flights of fancy, not when it’d been almost a year since they’d been in physical proximity. 

She pulled away from him reluctantly, her body yearning to touch him and be close but her mind gaining full control back. “You can see yourself out if you wish,” Marisa says, making it clear that he does not have to stay. She ignores him as she makes her way back to her bedroom, the two cups of hot chocolate carefully in hand.

Lyra is snuggled up on her bed, resting comfortably on the pillows with the laptop in front of her. It’s clear she’d picked a movie and by her fidgeting had been waiting impatiently for Marisa to get back. “Thank you, mummy,” Lyra whispers as Marisa hands her the hot chocolate, warning that it’s hot and to not drink it too quickly. 

She places her own mug down on the bedside table as she climbs onto the bed, sitting snugly beside Lyra before picking it up once again. Her gaze flicks to the screen, brows furrowed for a moment as she tries to figure out which movie Lyra had settled on. It’s a title she recognises but not one she recalls seeing. 

Lyra starts the movie then and they sip their warm drinks contentedly. It’s ten minutes in when Asriel wanders into the room, moving about the space as if he had every right to be there. Marisa glares over her mug but says nothing as he kicks off his boots and climbs onto her bed, settling beside her. Her gaze drops to Lyra and realises she looks _thrilled_ to have Asriel there with them, so she says nothing. 

Eventually both hot chocolates are finished and are placed onto the bedside table, out of the way. Lyra is intensely focused on the movie, some children’s fantasy that has Lyra intrigued and delighted. Marisa finds herself the little spoon as Asriel shifts, slipping an arm around her waist and holding her tightly and it isn’t long before her exhaustion overtakes her and she’s fallen asleep in his arms. It’s a sight to behold, Marisa so comfortable and relaxed, one of her hands touching Lyra at all times. 

Asriel thinks, for once, that maybe he had actually been in the wrong. He won’t ever admit it but gazing over his sleeping lover and their child, he decides he doesn’t want to lose them. He squeezes Marisa a little tighter, hand entwining with hers, thumb rubbing soft circles over her palm, pressing a kiss to her cheek and lays his head down. After all, he’d not had any sleep all night too. 

The movie is almost finished when Lyra starts to hear her father’s light snores. She ignores them until the movie ends, then turns the site off and closes her mother’s laptop, wriggling a little out of her mother’s hold to place the device on the table beside the bed. Turning back around, Lyra grins as she see’s both her parents asleep, cuddling up together. 

It’s a sight she hasn’t seen since before her sister died. She’s missed having her father around and she’s missed her mother being happy; seeing them like that she can’t help but wish that they never part again. With a smile on her face, she snuggles back into her mother, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep with thoughts of being a proper family again in her mind.


	8. Six

**of broken bones and guilt**

* * *

At nine years old, Lyra is enjoying her summer break. It's been four months since she's seen her father and two since she's seen her mother in person. FaceTime however is a wonderful invention and one her mother employs regularly and Lyra is at least grateful her mother remembers her. It seems as if her father has forgotten all about her while he’s been away and it shouldn't be a surprise but it does sting a little. 

Lyra loves her father very much and he always brings her back interesting presents from his expeditions. Gifts she treasures and are placed around her room with pride and care. But sometimes she wishes he'd just  _ stay _ or even let her go with him! Lyra’s never gotten to go travelling with her father, and she doubts her mother would let her go all the way to the Arctic either. Still, Lyra dreams of being an explorer and adventurer and maybe a scientist like her father. 

His life, what she hears about it at least, sounds exciting. Much better than her mother's boring job bossing people around; even though Mother is apparently an engineer, which she always claims is like a scientist. Lyra isn't sure if she believes that but, then again, her mother always understands exactly what her father is talking about and even  _ corrects  _ him at times. Plus father always says she is  _ brilliant _ . 

Mother doesn't get to travel like father though. And that's really what Lyra aspires to do. She wants to see the whole world, she wants to have adventures and trek through snow and scale mountains and investigate jungles. She wants to explore. Not be a boring engineer or scientist like her Mother and Father. 

She knows her father wouldn't care. It'd be mother she'd have to convince. 

But her mother isn't here right now, to stop her from exploring the countryside. London had been easier to explore because her mother had barely paid her any attention and there'd been new and exciting things all around her. The countryside wasn't exactly  _ new _ territory but with neither parent around to scold her and only Mrs. Costa, who she didn’t  _ really _ have to listen to, around to warn her to be careful; Lyra had free reign over her summer. 

It is because of this freedom of course, that has her running around with Tony and Billy Costa, scaling the balconies of the Manor and climbing trees. It is also this freedom and lack of supervision, unfortunately, that has her tumbling from the high branches of a tree at the front of the Belacqua Manor. 

“Shit!” Tony Costa exclaims as he watches Lyra’s foot slip and her hand struggle to grip a branch above her, doing his best to try and catch the girl but failing. Her head hits a branch on the way down and there’s blood and when she lands, she stretches her arms out towards the ground to stop the impact; only for a sickening crack to be heard. 

“Billy! Go get Ma!” Tony orders his younger brother, pushing him away from Lyra and the tree and back towards the Manor. His little brother takes off in a run as Lyra starts to cry, cradling her arm. 

Tony isn’t sure what to do, flustered as he tries to calm Lyra down. It seems like  _ forever _ before he can hear his Ma shouting to them, asking what was wrong. Her tone is worried and angry and Tony vaguely wonders what his little brother had said. 

Lyra is still crying, breathing fast, eyes squeezed shut as she holds her arm tightly. Even at 11, Tony could tell that Lyra’s arm was not right and he worried for the younger girl. He also worried for the smack he was no doubt going to get when his mother got him alone. 

“She was climbing the tree and then fell! I tried to catch her ma, I swear,” Tony told Mrs. Costa as she finally got close, her eyes wide as she took in the scene at the bottom of the tree. 

Mrs. Costa took charge then, wiping away the blood on Lyra’s face with the tea towel she’d been carrying before pressing it to the small gash on the child’s forehead. She held it there as she talked to Lyra, trying to calm her down. Once the girl had gathered herself together a little more, Mrs. Costa slowly helped her stand up, her keen eyes gazing over Lyra to make sure she wasn’t injured anywhere else. 

“Alright Lyra. We best get ya to a hospital…” Mrs. Costa told her calmly, voice comforting, a hand rubbing Lyra’s back. 

“I want my mother!” Lyra exclaimed, lips trembling and eyes watering as she accidentally jostled her injured arm.

“I know girl, I know. We’ll call her and she’ll meet us at the hospital in no time,” Mrs. Costa reassured her, guiding the injured Lyra towards the car. Of course she’d said that but Mrs. Costa wasn’t even sure if Marisa was in the country and then hastily wondered if she could get in contact with Lord Asriel either. “Come on now,” Mrs. Costa cajoles, cradling Lyra as delicately as she can. There’d be time to think about informing the girl’s parents later. 

The car ride to the hospital feels longer than it really is, Lyra feeling the pain more and more as each minute passes by. By the time they get to the hospital, Lyra is bawling once again and squirming around in pain, Mrs. Costa trying to comfort her as best she can but it doesn’t seem to be working. 

* * *

“Where is my daughter?” Marisa Coulter exclaims, striding into the hospital, barely stopping herself from crashing into the reception desk. “Lyra Belacqua. She came through A&E,” Marisa insisted, slightly breathless and laser focused. 

The nurse at the desk faltered for a moment, the intensity and desperation radiating off of Marisa intimidating the poor woman. Despite the fact, the nurse was no doubt older. “Now,  _ please _ ,” she continued, trying to control herself, forcing a smile onto her face. There was no point in taking her worry and anger out on the staff. Not until she’d found Lyra, at least. 

Her expression was stony, harder than it usually would have been in any other circumstance outside their home. But there was an  _ overwhelming _ worry that was engulfing her, the likes she’d never felt before. Lyra was hurt, she was lying somewhere in the hospital injured and Marisa hadn’t been there. The thought sent a sharp pang of self hatred through her; she had been away too long, Lyra  _ never _ would have been injured on her watch. 

The nurse gave her Lyra’s room number and she stormed through the hospital, a hand clenched tight and nails digging roughly into her skin. It took her only moments to find Lyra’s private room, bursting through the door with haste. Her eyes found her daughter instantaneously.

Lyra was pale but she was sitting up in the hospital bed, her arm already in a cast. Marisa’s brow furrowed in concern as she stepped closer, eyes flicking over her daughter quickly, looking for any other signs of injury. Her eyes stopped on the two, delicate stitches on her daughter’s forehead and curled her hands into tight fists. She took a deep breath, releasing her fingers and trying to keep herself calm. 

“Oh, Lyra, darling!” She exclaimed, stepping closer to the hospital bed and reaching her hands out to cup her daughter’s face. She had barely looked at Mrs. Costa and her sons, sitting on the opposite of the hospital bed. She would deal with the other woman later. 

“Mum!” Lyra whined, going to wrap her hands around Marisa but wincing as she jostled her broken arm. 

Marisa’s frown deepened as she saw her daughter wince and smoothed her hands over her daughter’s dark hair soothingly. Her eyes glanced down at the cast, a hand dropping down to hold Lyra’s uninjured one tightly. “I’m  _ sorry _ I wasn’t here… I got back as soon as I could. What happened?” Marisa asked her, trying to assuage her own guilt at being so far away from her child. 

“Was climbing a tree and slipped,” Lyra replied tiredly, taking a moment to yawn before fixing her eyes back on her mother. 

Marisa inspected her carefully at the words, hand flitting up to Lyra’s forehead, a finger touching featherlight around the stitches. She resisted the urge to press down, pulling her hand away and resting it on the bed. “Oh, you must be more careful Lyra,” Marisa intoned, a frown still lingering on her lips. 

She was so  _ focused _ on her child that she tensed when she heard the voice of Mrs. Costa from the side of the room. The anger was back then, as she turned slowly towards the other woman, gaze heated as her eye’s met the blonde woman’s. She had  **trusted** Costa to care for Lyra while she and Asriel were away for work, and she didn’t trust easily. She should have  _ never _ allowed Lyra to be hurt, let alone injured and in hospital. 

“-doctor said she could go home in the morning,” Marisa heard Mrs. Costa say. 

The other woman seemed to realise quickly however, that Marisa was in no mood to hear her and quickly stopped talking. Marisa resisted the urge to curl her lips into a snarl, already deciding that she was going to fire the useless woman. If she couldn’t prevent Lyra from climbing a tree and breaking her arm, then she was of no use to her. She wasn’t going to acknowledge that her anger had turned outwards unnecessarily. 

“You may go, Mrs. Costa,” Marisa replied sharply, forcing a tight smile the other woman’s way. “I’m here now and Lyra needs her rest,” she continued, making it clear that her words were not a suggestion. 

“Of course,” Mrs. Costa nodded, standing and gathering her youngest son in her arms. “We’ll see you soon Lyra. Let’s go,” she directed her sons out of the room, grimacing. 

Instantly, Marisa’s attention was back on Lyra, lips pursed as her daughter watched the Costa’s leave, giving them a wave with her uninjured hand. She looked  _ sad _ about it and Marisa huffed. She had just arrived and Lyra was hurt; weren’t children supposed to want their mother’s when they were sick or injured? The very notion that Lyra would’ve preferred Mrs. Costa’s presence to hers created an irrational anger to burn inside her. 

Her hand clasped around Lyra’s injured one, squeezing tightly. “Ow,” Lyra grumbled, flinching, brows furrowed as her eyes snapped back to her mother. 

Immediately Marisa cooed at Lyra, expression turning concerned and motherly. “Does it still hurt?” She questioned, not giving Lyra the chance to speak. “Would you like me to get the nurse for you? I assume they gave you painkillers,” Marisa mused, wide eyes and sweet smile directed at her daughter. 

Lyra nodded, a little pout forming on her lips at her mother’s words. “Yes, please. It’s aching a little,” Lyra told her, moving her arm up carefully against her chest. She could sense that her mother wanted to take care of her and after months of not seeing her, sh wanted her to as well. 

Marisa smiled wide and genuine at Lyra’s words, nodding as she stood up from the hospital bed, fingers caressing Lyra’s chin. “Alright, my darling. I’ll be right back,” Marisa told her, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. 

She made her way out of the private room, finding a doctor quickly. She explained the situation and then asked about Lyra’s condition. The doctor told her that they’d send a nurse in to administer the pain medication and gave her a basic overview of Lyra’s injury, though they hadn’t been the doctor that fixed or cast the break. Marisa pursed her lips, unimpressed but chose instead to get back to Lyra instead of insisting she speak with the doctor that had treated her daughter. 

With a huff, she stepped back into the private room to see Lyra resting back against the elevated bed. Her daughter was nine and growing quickly but laying in the stark white hospital bed, Marisa was reminded of the little girl that she had once been. She didn’t want to admit it but the rate at which Lyra grew at times made her sad and wish she was a baby once again. 

“The nurse will be in, in a moment, darling,” Marisa told her daughter, making her way around to the opposite side of the hospital bed to sit in the now vacant seats. She unbuttoned her blazer, slipping it off and folding it over the back of the chair as she did so, straightening out her silk blouse as she perched on the edge of the seat. 

“Thank you, mummy,” Lyra told her, fidgeting a little as her arm started to ache. 

It wasn’t long then, until a nurse came in and administered pain relief to Lyra. He did so silently, under the watchful, eagle-eyed glare of Marisa. Once he was gone, Lyra shifted in the bed again, trying to get comfortable and knocking her arm painfully. She let out a little cry and Marisa was up and by the bed in an instant. 

“Lyra, you must try and be more careful,” she admonished lightly, helping to settle the girl. 

“I just wanted to turn over so I could sleep,” Lyra complained, frowning up at her mother and looking so much like Asriel that Marisa couldn’t help but soften. She tucked a strand of hair behind Lyra’s ear, looking down at her lovingly, wanting to help her and mother her in some way. 

“It might be better if you stay on your back Lyra. I’ll put the bed down,” Marisa suggested, eyes already glancing around for the remote to lower the bed to a more even position. 

Lyra simply nodded, much too tired to think of anything else or argue with her mother. It had after all been an exhausting day for the nine year old. “Thank you, mum,” Lyra murmured, as Marisa found the device and lowered the bed, watching as Lyra settled herself. “Can you turn the light out please?” Lyra asked softly, turning her head to gaze helplessly at Marisa. 

A smile settled on her lips as she nodded, moving to turn the lights off in the room. Of course, Marisa could still see but the darkened lights would help Lyra sleep better and give her a sense of calm. Though, as she gazed over at her daughter, eyes already half closed, Marisa could see that maybe the girl didn’t need that much help to sleep after all. 

She made her way around the bed, intending to settle on the seat when Lyra held out her good hand to her. “Can you lay with me?” Lyra asked sleepily. It was clear to Marisa, that Lyra wanted a cuddle and comfort and she felt her heart swell that her daughter needed her. 

“Of course, my darling,” Marisa cooed, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. She sat down on the edge of the bed, slipping off her heeled shoes and swinging her legs up onto the bed. She shuffled into a comfortable position beside Lyra, turning on her side, careful not to bump into Lyra, a hand stroking Lyra’s hair. “Mama’s here,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her had. 

Lyra smiled, snuggling into her as she closed her eyes. Marisa watched her, hand still stroking her head, until Lyra’s breathing slowed and she fell asleep. Her mouth dropped open a little as she relaxed into sleep and Marisa smiled; Asriel slept the same way. It still amazed her at times just how much Lyra was like her father. If she hadn’t birthed her, Marisa would’ve worried she wasn’t Lyra’s mother. 

Marisa relaxed a little more on the bed, pulling the blanket further up over Lyra and smoothing it down. The day and the worry and guilt were finally catching up with her. Suddenly, she felt exhausted and she couldn’t imagine how Lyra had felt. With a final kiss to Lyra’s temple, she closed her eyes and snuggled into her side, letting herself drift off to sleep alongside her daughter. 


	9. Interlude: Let's Get Married?

_**Interlude: Let's Get Married?** _

* * *

“We should marry.” 

“What?” Marisa asks, a teacup halfway to her lips as she looks up at Asriel. 

They are sitting on their terrace, enjoying breakfast on their own as Lyra has not deigned them with her presence yet. She’d been snappy at them since she and Marisa had moved back to the Manor from London. It had no doubt been a big change but she'd thought the girl would take it in her stride. 

“You heard me Marisa,” Asriel replied, barely looking up from his morning newspaper. 

This was the fourth time he'd asked in as many months. It seemed he had been serious, in London, when he'd first bought it up. Marisa hadn't expected him to keep asking after that first time but it seemed he enjoyed springing it on her every now and then. 

“We've already had this discussion Asriel,” Marisa told him with a sigh, bringing her teacup to her lips and taking a delicate sip. 

Asriel scoffs in reply. “What discussion? I ask and you say no, then ignore me. It really is rather rude to ignore a man proposing to you, Marisa. Especially when he is the father of your child,” he chided her, his amusement clear as day. 

Marisa simply sighed, placing her teacup down as she looked over at him across the table. “Asriel…You’ve hardly been  _ proposing _ .”

He grinned then, finally meeting her eyes. “And perhaps I’m sick of hearing people call you  _ Mrs. Coulter _ . It is ridiculous you still go by that name,” he waffled on, waving a hand in her direction, as if she hadn’t spoken. 

“Well, I’m certainly not going back to my maiden name,” Marisa snapped out, rolling her eyes as she plucked an apple slice from her plate and brought it to her lips. 

She focused then, on her breakfast, attempting to ignore Asriel as he moved about in her peripheral vision. It wasn’t until she felt him leaning against the table, invading her personal space that she finally looked up at him again. She didn’t speak, simply raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her in amusement, a smug self satisfied smirk on his face. 

“Yes?” She asked, leaning back in her seat, her own smirk threatening to break through. She was prepared to throw out a quick, snarky barb in response to whatever he said. 

Until of course, she noticed the ring he was holding out to her; a beautiful emerald cut blue sapphire, studded with diamonds, perched between his thumb and forefinger. Her breath caught for a moment, all his usual asking and he’d never produced a ring before; had never made it seem anything other than him asking out of convenience. 

His smug smirk grew at her reaction. “I was thinking more along the lines of taking the Belacqua name.  _ Finally _ ,” he mused, so obviously pleased with himself. 

“So you’re serious then?” Marisa asked, surprised by how breathless she sounded and by how fast her heart seemed to be beating. This hadn’t happened the other time he’d suggested marriage. 

“Of course. This is my grandmother’s ring. It’s only appropriate the next Lady Belacqua wears it,” Asriel told her, voice soft for once, almost reverent as his eyes found hers. “Marry me, Marisa,” he breathed, leaning forward a little till they were almost face to face. 

Marisa simply grinned, genuine and a little surprised as she searched his face for any sign of pretence. But deep down, she knew he was sincere. “Alright,” she murmured so softly the words could be swept away on a breeze. She nodded, lifting her left hand up for him to take. 

Asriel slipped his grandmother’s ring onto her ring finger, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a sweet kiss to the top of her hand. He kept his grip and tugged her up, so she stood between his parted legs against the table, pulling her into a passionate, loving kiss; arms slipping around her waist and holding her securely to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering, this is the [ring](https://www.cynthiafindlay.com/images/cache/Art-Deco-Style-Sapphire-and-Diamond-Ring-CFA1808133-85182a.400.jpg).


	10. Interlude: Coping Mechanisms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains graphic depictions and discussions of self-harm. Please read with care.

_**Interlude: Coping Mechanisms** _

* * *

Marisa's school had been elite and prestigious. Half the girls had, had eating disorders and a quarter harmed themselves in some way. The other quarter of students had been addicted to something and there were the few that flitted between the groups, never knowing just what way to hurt themselves best. 

Marisa had always had a perfectly lithe and toned body and she had never liked substances that impaired her judgement. So in the secluded dormitories of intense, angst ridden teenage girls, Marisa had experimented with various ways of self harm. Marisa’s emotions had always been high, she felt them all so thoroughly and completely; her mother had always said she was an emotional child. 

Up until her teenage years she hadn't known how to express that other than to rage and scream and let her temper rule her. But her school, she'd found out quickly was not an acceptable place for such behaviour and she'd found all her emotions bubbling up inside her. Making her blood boil and her skin itch and leaving her with the irrepressible urge to let her rage out. 

It wasn't until she’d seen the neat little lines on the thighs of a girl a year above her in the shower block that the thought of self harm entered her mind. She knew peripherally what cutting was, girls whispered about it late at night or in corners when they thought the teachers couldn't hear. But she didn't think she knew anyone personally that did it. 

So, she had no one to turn to but that didn't matter. The idea was in her head and it wasn't long before her emotions were overwhelming her, anger and spite filling her up and nowhere to release it. Instead of throwing a tantrum and damaging property, that usually wasn't hers, she hid herself away. She had clean sharp scissors and a bandage ready. 

The first cut across the inside of her thigh was unsteady and light but it started to bleed. As the sharpened metal had pierced her flesh, she'd felt pain but she’d also felt relief. It was as if the tension had seeped out of her with her blood. She followed that first cut up with two more; a little more sure and steady and producing more blood. 

But Marisa had frowned afterwards. It was too messy and cleaning up had taken too much time. The cuts had brought relief but she'd had to take her time to get it done and she wasn't sure if she liked it. Besides that, the bandage chafed and the wounds weren't as conspicuous as she'd hoped. 

So she experimented. She'd tried burning herself, on the arch of her foot but knew straight away that wouldn't work. The pain was too much for her and it had left an ugly faded scar. She was glad she hadn't tried it anywhere else. 

Eventually Marisa found that using her perfectly manicured nails to pinch herself gave her relief and required less clean up. It wasn't a perfect method of course but it was one she could live with. She had been fascinated to realise that if she was angry enough, she could sometimes produce blood and that it rarely ever scarred. Occasionally she would deliberately give herself a bruise, usually on the side of her thigh, and would poke and prod and pinch at it for days or even weeks when she was in a particularly terrible mood. 

The actions had become second nature to her, to the point that she'd dug her nails into the skin of her thigh, forgetting that Edward was there. He'd seen and been worried but she'd been able to calm him and talk him out of whatever worry he'd had. She was nothing if not a master manipulator. 

Asriel, on the other hand was not so easily kept at bay. Of course the incidences had gotten more and more frequent the deeper she and Asriel had fallen into their affair. He'd caught her doing it more than once, had seen the bruises and claw marks she left on herself, and she knew he’d been worried about her. She'd tried to explain that it was simply how she coped, that she wasn't doing any real damage but he’d wanted her to stop. 

So she'd tried, for him. Then she fell pregnant.


	11. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've had this chapter written for months; I've been sitting on this since at least early January. I wasn't sure whether I should post it or not. But this was always going to be apart of this story and I felt like not including it would be a disservice to the story as a whole. 
> 
> Here it is. This is a dark one babes. The title of the chapter comes from Dante Alighieri's _Inferno_. 
> 
> **Warning: This chapter contains graphic depictions of self-harm. If this may trigger or offend you, please do not read.**

**on the thornbrush of the soul that harmed it**

* * *

Marisa’s boarding school had been a breeding ground for politician’s wives, socialites and high powered businesswomen. It was unfortunate, Marisa thought, that she happened to fall into the wives category twice now. She had eventually met Asriel and though she was technically _Lady Belacqua_ she was hardly a socialite. And while she ran no business, she was high powered. 

In fact, if she had to wager on it, she would say she held more power than most of the women she’d gone to school with. But with power, came stress and with the kind of power Marisa now had, the stress was overwhelming. It didn't help that more and more frequently she'd been bumping heads with Lyra as her own daughter neared her teenage years. 

And, for the first time since she was 13, Marisa thinks about cutting. She knows she can't and she won't but the thought is in the back of her mind as she shimmies her dress up around her thighs and digs her nails into soft skin. She presses her nails into her skin with as much pressure as she can, the tell-tale relief nowhere to be found. It's _frustrating_ and she can feel her heartbeat racing and she's _angry_! 

She's got a hand on each thigh now, clawing at her skin almost frenzied. Her eyes are screwed shut, to block the image or slow her tears, she doesn't know. The pinching to her thighs is only faint and not giving her the relief she so desperately wants, so instead she starts scratching desperately; she wants to make herself bleed. 

Before she can properly think it through, she reaches for her letter opener, focused solely on what is right in front of her. She brings the tip to her thigh, pressing down and waiting for blood. A little bit finally bubbles around the tip of the letter opener, a little burst of relief flowing through her, a pained smile blooming at the pain. 

“Marisa!” 

She doesn't gasp but the pressure on the letter opener lets up. Suddenly, she realises what she's done and she can barely look at her husband. Her hand tightens on the letter opener and it isn't until she feels Asriel pry it from her grip that she realises he's moved from her study doorway. 

“I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” she whispers breathlessly, shaking her head and eyes filled with despair. It feels as if she’s outside of her body, as if she’d completely disconnected from everything around her. 

“I know…” he replies rather gravely, but she still feels outside of herself and barely registers his words. 

Asriel is kneeling in front of her, his hands light on her thighs as he examines them thoroughly, worrying he’ll find more cut marks. Thankfully he sees only the imprints of her nails and a dark bruise on the outside of her thigh that he can’t believe he’s missed until now. He knew, of course, that she had never completely kicked the habit of hurting herself in this way but he’d failed to realise just how bad it had gotten. 

Marisa doesn’t look at him as he pushes himself up to stand, intending to reach for the tissues on Marisa’s desk to press against the cut to her thigh, when he hears something behind them. He turns just as Lyra comes barrelling into the study, she looks either irritated or excited, he’s really not sure but she stops dead as her eyes take in the scene before her. Her brows furrowed further and he winces imperceptibly when he sees her gaze train on the blood on her mother’s thigh. 

“Mother?” Lyra breathes, looking unsure about what was happening or what she should do. 

His gaze flicks to Marisa and he can see the _horror_ on her face and knows he needs to do something. “Out, Lyra. Now!” he practically bellows, striding towards her. He turns her around and all but pushes her out of the door, closing it firmly on their daughter. It’s probably the wrong thing to do but for the moment, he’s focused on Marisa, not Lyra. 

* * *

The door slams closed in her face and Lyra is stunned. She can’t quite figure out what she’d just seen. Her mother had been bleeding, she’d seen that much clearly but how? 

Suddenly, all thoughts of asking to go out with her friend Audrey over the weekend is gone. Instead, replaced by anxious worry. She purses her lip and takes a slow step towards the door, careful to make no noise as she presses her ear against the wood and tries to listen in. She can’t _really_ make out any talking, just some muffled sounds and maybe, she thinks, her mother is crying. 

For one, horrible, dark moment, she worries that Father has hurt Mother. That he’s _still_ hurting her and that she should be trying to help her, not outside listening through a door. But then she shakes it off, clears her head. Father could be rough and aggressive at times but he’s not the violent one; she knows Father would never hurt Mother. 

Still, her mother is bleeding. It hadn’t looked like a lot of blood but blood no matter what was never a good sign. As she thought about it, she realised that the tops of her mother’s legs had been all red compared to the rest of her pale skin. It didn’t look right and something was clearly wrong and...what if Mother was _dying_? 

Lyra didn’t want to think about it and she knew she was most likely overreacting but the truth was the thought scared her. She loved her father of course. But her mother was the parent she saw most of. Her mother looked after her when she was sick, she helped her with her homework and took her shopping and to fancy new places. Her mother rarely travelled now and when she did, she tried to make it so that Lyra could travel with her. And though she could be strict and controlling and possessive, her mother was the parent that was _around_. 

If her mother died, her father would probably send her off to boarding school and be done with her. She’d heard them arguing about it once; her father had suggested she was old enough for boarding school and if they sent her, they could travel together again. Lyra had huffed in annoyance at his words until her mother had snapped back at him. They’d fought about it for two weeks while Lyra had learnt that she could use their argument to her advantage. 

Now though, she didn’t find it all that amusing anymore. 

She was pulled from her thoughts when she heard footsteps through the door and she quickly dashed across the hall into the room opposite. The room stored the excess of her father’s scientific equipment and she was careful not to touch. She kept the door open a little, so she could spy between the gap and watch her mother and father carefully. 

Mother looked pale and her lips were pursed, a half bloody tissue still in her hand. Father looked stoic and angry, a hand pressed to Mother’s back and guiding her down the hall. They weren’t speaking and the air around them was tense. Lyra wanted so desperately to know what was wrong and if her mother was okay. 

Once they were out of sight, instead of following them, she stepped her way into her mother’s study. Carefully she moved towards her mother’s desk, frowning as she noticed another bloody tissue in the bin underneath the desk. She didn’t touch it but as she gazed around she couldn’t spot blood anywhere else. The papers on her mother’s desk looked messy which was out of the ordinary but so had everything else she’d seen in the last 10 minutes. 

Confused, she sat herself down in her mother’s chair, brows creased with worry. She couldn’t figure out what was going on, her gazing sweeping around the room slowly before landing on her mother’s letter opener. It was tossed haphazardly to one side and upon further inspection, Lyra had picked it up and brought it closer, there looked to be blood on the tip. 

Her frown deepens and she pauses for a moment. She takes all the information she has in for another moment. Lyra, eventually, comes to a startling conclusion. 

Had her Mother hurt herself?

It seemed like the likeliest possible conclusion to Lyra. At school, in her health class, they’d talked about self-harm. How many young people turned to cutting their wrists or their thighs in attempts to deal with turbulent emotions and feelings. How it could be dangerous and how it could escalate. How if you thought a friend or classmate was self-harming, you should talk to a trusted adult. 

They never mentioned that it could be an adult that was self-harming. 

Lyra dropped the letter opener back onto the desk, as if it was suddenly fiery hot and popped up out of her mother’s office chair. She kept her gaze steadfastly away from the bin. She was just heading for the door when her father appeared in the threshold. Lyra froze. 

“What are you doing in here?” Her father thundered and she could see the anger on his face and, surprisingly, the worry. 

Lyra stayed silent, she didn’t know what to say or how to explain that she’d been snooping. But, her father was tense and the energy around him rippled and she knew it was the wrong choice to stay silent. 

“Lyra!” He snapped and Lyra jumped, fear shooting through her. Father hadn’t smacked her since she’d started high school but now she was worried. 

“I wanted to know what was wrong with Mother,” Lyra spat out quickly, grimacing as her eyes found her father’s. She doubted whether it was the right thing to say but she already knew she couldn’t lie her way out of this one. 

Father sighed, a hand coming up to scratch at his slight beard. “Your mother is fine, Lyra. Now out of her office,” he told her sternly, glaring at her until she’d made her way passed him, out of the office. 

“But...she was bleeding!” Lyra insisted, looking up at her father with concern. 

“Lyra, we’ll have no mention of this again. Do you understand? Your mother wasn’t feeling well and that’s it. Now go. Don’t you have homework to be doing?” Her father snapped, hard stern eyes focused solely on Lyra. 

Lyra’s lips pursed as she glared back up at her father. She stared at him for a moment. “Fine,” she bit out, angry at his dismissal, as she stalked off down the hallway and to her bedroom. Clearly whatever had happened that afternoon was not going to be mentioned again. 

* * *

Dinner that evening was awkward. Mother and Father both sat, talking amicably as they ate and Lyra seethed across from them. She just didn’t understand; she wanted to bring it up, to talk about what she’d seen. 

But one look across the table at her mother and she knew she shouldn’t. Her mother hadn’t made eye contact with her since she’d come down for dinner, instead she’d focused on her food and on her father. She was acting as if the afternoon had never happened and Lyra couldn’t understand why. 

The sight of her parents pretending that everything was alright was too much for Lyra. Her knife and fork clattered as she dropped them down on her still half full plate and she pushed herself up. “I’m done,” she mumbled out, glaring at both her parents as she spoke. 

“Lyra, you haven’t been excused,” her mother chirps as Lyra heads for the door. 

“Whatever,” Lyra mumbles, not sure if her parents had heard her and not caring either way. All she knows is that she needs to get out of that dining room before she lost her cool. She truly doesn’t understand how her parents do it. Acting as if nothing is ever wrong. 

* * *

“You can’t keep doing that to yourself Marisa,” Asriel whispers gently against her ear. They are on their sides and Asriel has an arm slung over her waist, holding her close and tight. They don’t usually sleep like this but Asriel has a feeling Marisa needs the comfort. He's not usually so aware. 

“I didn’t mean too,” Marisa starts, voice soft though he can hear the tint of anger to it. 

Asriel shakes his head and sighs, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “That’s the point Marisa. You _didn’t_ mean to yet you cut yourself with a bloody letter opener. Lyra saw! Enough is enough,” he hissed, more frustrated than angry. 

Marisa doesn’t say anything back, simply tightens her hand over his and presses herself back against him. He feels warm and safe and solid behind her. He’s everything she needs and she promises herself that she’ll try for him, once again.


	12. Interlude: Positive!

**_Interlude: Positive!_ **

* * *

Cool marble tiles and peppermint mouthwash had become Marisa’s best friends over the last few days. Asriel had, thankfully, been away for an expedition and Marisa had never been more glad for a scientific expedition in her life. Her stomach had been revolting on her for most of the week and quite frankly it was getting harder and harder for her to ignore it. 

She suspected exactly what the cause was and at first, when she’d first started feeling nauseous and ill; she had blamed it on dodgy curry. But considering she’d spent every day for the past week feeling like she was hungover, without the drinking, she couldn’t help but remember the last time she’d felt like this. 

_Lyra._

The very thought of her 6 year old daughter made her groan. When she’d been pregnant with Lyra, she had been constantly nauseous and so sensitive to smells she hadn’t even been able to be around Asriel’s cologne. Of course, that had put a dampener on their dalliances, since she had still been married to Edward then. The very sight of her first husband used to irritate her to her very soul. All in all, her first pregnancy with Lyra had been miserable. 

But she couldn’t think about that now. All the signs pointed to another accidental pregnancy and though Marisa didn’t want to believe it; she had to know for sure. 

Gingerly, she pushed herself up onto her knees and then into a standing position. She searched the bathroom cabinets thoroughly, surprised to find an at home pregnancy test stuffed into the back of the third draw. Apparently it was left over from the last time she had suspected she was pregnant; mercifully, she had not been. 

She grimaced as she read the instructions and proceeded to follow them. 

As she waited, she went about her normal morning routine. Her stomach still churned, of course and she still felt ill. But it gave her a sense of normalcy that she liked; especially if her life was about to be shaken up once again. The timer on her phone went off and for a moment, she contemplated not checking it but she took a breath and steeled herself. She was no coward. 

Stepping into her bathroom her eyes zeroed in on the stupid white stick that held her fate. With a deep breath she picked it up, sighing at the two pink lines appearing strong. _Positive!_ She groaned, throwing it into the bin with a frown. 

Silently she cursed Asriel. Of course he’d gotten her pregnant then went gallivanting off overseas for three months. She’d make him pay once he finally came home.


	13. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyra is between 2 and 2 and a half in this chapter. 
> 
> Also, this chapter is slightly explicit.

**promise me heaven and put me through hell**

* * *

“Are you having an affair?” 

The question comes out of nowhere and Asriel’s brows furrow, almost coming together across his face as he stills from his work. He'd arrived home from a research trip only a week ago and though the mood in the Manor house had been strange - a sort of tension he didn't bother to investigate further - he'd assumed it was simply his return that had caused it. He’d assumed Marisa’s icy, detached attitude was another vestige of his return home; she  _ liked _ to play those kinds of games with him. 

She always wanted him to know  _ she _ was conditional. Her presence in his life - as a lover, a partner, a mother; were all by her own hand. She wanted him to know that Marisa Coulter could come and go from his life as she pleased and when she pleased. He knew it, even without the little games she played; her love and presence had never been solid, though he knew they were there. They just didn't discuss the fact  _ he _ was what she wanted more than anything else in the universe, except for, maybe, their daughter. And because of that, she didn't quite leave as completely or as often as she liked to pretend she would. 

So, he'd figured her detachment and retreat had simply been one of her games because he'd been away so long. But now, he knew better. 

“I asked you a question Asriel,” Marisa said slowly, enunciating each word as clearly as possible; tension seeping through every sound. 

Her hands were by her sides, curling and uncurling into a tight ball. Shoulders back and head held high, her eyes were bright with fury. Asriel had no doubt that if he looked at the palm of her hands he'd find them covered in half-moon marks. 

Asriel sighed, lips quirking upwards into a smirk as he looked up at her. A ravishing, gorgeous sight his jealous lover was. He shook his head, eyes flicking back to his work as he finally spoke. 

“No, Marisa. I am not having an affair,” he told her calmly, tone almost bored. 

And he was telling the truth. He couldn't fathom where this sudden suspicion came from.

Marisa let out a frustrated growl and a stack of books from the left side of his desk went tumbling to the floor. Asriel looked up at her sharply, a sudden fire stoking in his belly. Her temper was remarkable but that didn't mean he'd sit there and take it. 

“If you're going to act like a child,  _ get out _ ,” he snapped, standing from his seat and finally giving himself equal footing. 

“I am not a child and you don't get to just  _ dismiss _ me,” Marisa snapped out, anger overflowing in her words and actions. But beneath it, Asriel could sense the worry and hurt too. “I know you used to see that woman in the North. And you were gone for three weeks longer than you were supposed to be. What else am I to think?” Marisa hissed out, lips pressing together as if she'd said more then she’d meant to. 

She turns away, a hand clamped around her hip holding herself tightly as she digs her nails into the palm of her other hand. Marisa has never been one to handle emotions well; especially when they overwhelmed her. She could get so caught up in feeling something, good or bad, she could barely see the space around her. Asriel remembers a time before Lyra, when Marisa had described it as if she couldn't catch her breath - caught between inhaling and exhaling - until suddenly it all came back to her in a rush and overwhelmed her senses. 

Even knowing all that didn't change the fact that Asriel did not like being accused of something he didn't do. Gladly he would take the wrap for something he had done; he wasn't a coward in that way and had never been. But this wasn't that. 

“You're supposed to know I wouldn't betray you like that Marisa,” Asriel bit out, his own anger now coming to the surface. 

He moved out from behind his desk, making his way slowly and cautiously over to her. Arms crossed, he stopped not far from her as she turned around once again. She was still glaring at him, fiery eyes now watery. 

Asriel reached out slowly, ready to pull his arm back quickly. Marisa had a propensity for violence, towards others and herself and in the state she'd worked herself up to - he wouldn't be surprised if she lashed out. Instead, and to his pleasant surprise, she let him take her wrist and pry her hand open. 

He stepped closer, Marisa’s chest heaving as he stroked his thumb over her palm and his other hand came up, fingers tipping her chin to look at him. 

“I'm not having an affair. I can promise you that Marisa,” Asriel told her firmly and sternly, trying to get the message across. “You, God help me, are the  _ only _ woman I want. I love you. Even when you decide to talk yourself into….whatever tantrum this was,” Asriel told her, voice gruff as his eyes found hers. 

Marisa jerked in his hold, the fight clearly still in her. He wasn't surprised when her free hand curled around his wrist, her nails digging deliberately into his skin. He let go of her chin then, amused as he watched her eyes flick over him - as if she were looking for any signs of deceit. But he wasn't the liar out of the pair of them and they both knew it. 

A moment passes between them then, their bodies pressed close and their eyes searing into each other's souls. 

Marisa surges forward, crashing her lips to his and kissing him hungrily, angrily. Asriel kisses her back, hands curling tightly around her hips and pushing her back against the workbench. He groans when she pulls away from the kiss, panting as he ducks his head and finds the sweet skin of her neck. 

But his plans are diverted. Marisa’s hand is wrapped in his hair and she tugs him back from her neck roughly. She's panting too, a malicious smirk on her lips and Asriel suddenly wants her badly. 

“I'd kill her,” Marisa whispers to him hotly. “If you ever betrayed me like that. I'd kill her,” and she's grinning now, the violent glint in her eye more prominent than ever. “And then  _ you _ ,” she leant in to whisper against his ear. 

Asriel laughs - loud and deep. 

“I know you would,” he growls, grinning right back at her. He knows she means her words and a part of him thinks he should be more worried about her threats. But he also knows he wouldn't love her half as much if she wasn't so  _ dangerous _ . “ _ I know you would _ .” 

He kisses her again then, rough and hot and Marisa moans into it eagerly. His hands paw at the dress she's wearing, tugging it up her thighs and pressing a leg between them. He's kissing her, her jaw, her neck - nipping and sucking eagerly without a care. He can feel her hands on his belt and buckle, fumbling and he pulls back, swatting her hands away. He undoes them himself, pulling off his shirt in the process as he watches Marisa hoist herself up onto the workbench. 

Her legs are spread and Asriel groans as they both reach for each other. His hand is in her hair, gripping tightly as the other unzips her dress; he lets go to push the material over and off her shoulders. He doesn't recognise the bra but he's been gone for three months. 

“Shit,” he gasps against her collarbone when he feels her hand wrapped around his hard length. 

His teeth nip at the skin over her bone as her arm and legs wrap around him, pulling him closer. She strokes him eagerly and he groans, eyes falling closed for a moment as his hands grab at her body. A hand finds her loose hair, fingers sinking into the dark strands before wrapping around them, close to the roots and tugging harshly. 

A noise escapes her lips - somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. Her eyes, half-lidded and lust filled, find his as she grins; hand stilling around his dick. Asriel grins, leans forward to kiss her hotly, teeth dragging at her bottom lip - her body arching into his rough touch. 

“Asriel,” she growls out, voice breathy and wanton, as she watches him. His free hand moves from her hip to her thigh, fingers pressing harshly into pale skin and they both know it'll leave a mark. His hand moves upwards, to the apex of her thighs and he tugs at her underwear - one of her hands helping to push them down her thighs and off her legs. 

He steps between her parted thighs now, pressing close as he simply looks at her. Half-dressed, hair a mess and thighs parted invitingly - it was a sight to behold. 

His hand drops from her hair and he's amused by the confused expression that flashes across Marisa’s features. Instead, he settles both hands on her cheeks, pulling her into a passionate kiss - all teeth and tongue as she wraps her arms around his neck. Asriel grins into the kiss, hands moving down to settle on her hips, then her thigh as he finally, slowly, pushes himself inside of her. 

“Fuck,” he breathes against her lips; feeling her around him was fucking  _ delightful, _ like he was coming home. 

Her right leg comes up, wrapping around his hip, the heel of her foot pressing against his ass. He thrusts in completely, still holding her thighs and letting her adjust as he presses a sloppy kiss to her shoulder. “I’ve missed this,” he groans, hooking a hand beneath her left knee and pulling it upwards, high against his body. 

He rocks against her, hands gripping her body tightly - her own hands grasping the table and around his neck, to keep herself steady. She tips her head back, letting her hair tumble around her shoulders and down her back as she clings to him. Her nails dig in to the nape of his neck and Asriel grunts as he thrusts into her sharply, the sharp sensation spurring him on. 

“God, Asriel,” Marisa moans, head coming back up as she pressed herself forward as best she could, legs tightening around his body. “You drive me crazy, you know?” she gasps breathily, her eyes opening to meet his as she pulls him in to a rough kiss. 

Asriel laughs loud against her cheek as he breaks the kiss, shaking his head. “As if you weren’t already?” he teases, nipping playfully at her neck. He grins, even as he hears Marisa growl into his ear with annoyance. “Now shut up and let me fuck you,” he states, shifting his hands to get a better grip on her hip and thigh, speeding up his thrusts. 

Their foreheads press together, eyes half-lidded, sharing breath as he speeds up - clutching to Marisa as if she were the only real thing in his world. He supposed it wasn’t far from the truth; especially when she was clenching around him, body trembling as her orgasm rocked through her. She felt like heaven, as she always did; Asriel couldn’t fathom how he’d lasted almost three months without her. As much as he hated to admit it, he was as addicted to Marisa as she was to him - it was as if they were pulled together by some magnetic force. 

He moans her name against her lips as he finally cums, finishing inside her in two short sharp bursts. They cling to each other, holding tightly as pleasure surges through them and slowly dissipates. 

Marisa nuzzles against his neck, pressing light kisses to his sweat stained skin. Asriel drops his hand from her knee, slipping both his arms around the small of her back and pulling her close his hands stroking up and down her back. “I love you, Marisa,” he whispers against her skin, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “Believe me, I would never cheat on you. As sappy as this may sound, there’s no one else I want. You’re  _ it _ for me,” Asriel tells her, softer then his words from earlier were. He wasn’t angry anymore, defending himself - instead he was trying to reassure Marisa. 

He watches her, eyes flicking over every minute expression that crosses her face as she takes in his words. Most other people that encountered Marisa only saw what she wanted them to see; but in this moment, late at night and their daughter tucked safely in bed upstairs, just the two of them together - he can read her better then he ever has before. He brings a hand up to cup her cheek, swiping his thumb gently over her cheek and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as he smiled. 

Asriel wouldn’t push her, Marisa unfortunately, needed to come to things in her own time. Thankfully, this wasn’t one of the times she fought the truth. 

“I know,” Marisa whispers after several long moments, her bright blue eyes meeting his. Her own hand comes up to cup his cheek, nails scratching lightly against his unshaven skin. “I know you would never. But you were gone so long and Marcel-”

Asriel scoffs, shaking his head. “Your brother’s been here spouting his bullshit hasn’t he?” he grumbles, sneering a little at the mere thought of Marcel Delamare being around Marisa and Lyra. “Why would you listen to him Marisa?” he continues, sighing as he leant forward, forehead pressing against hers once again. 

Marisa smiles, almost sheepishly, shrugging. “He got into my head but it won’t happen again. He simply can’t stand the thought that I’m happy. That I’m happy with  _ you _ and Lyra…No doubt my mother sent him,” Marisa muses, almost rolling her eyes at the thought of her biological family - a mother and brother that she barely saw once or twice a year. 

An amusing grin spreads across Asriel’s face, eyes alight as he looks at Marisa. “You’re happy? With me?” he teases, smirking at her. 

Marisa scoffs, slapping at his shoulder lightly, pushing him away. “Don’t push your luck, Asriel,” she tells him with a smirk and a shake of her head. “ _ Yes _ I’m happy with you. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here. You already know that,” she drawls lightly, leaning forward to press another kiss to his lips. 

Asriel smirks into the embrace, kissing her back eagerly. He’s contemplating a second round when a shrill, upset little voice sounds through the Manor. 

“ _ Mama! Mamaaa! _ ” 

It surprises him how quickly Marisa pushes him away with a sigh. But Lyra  _ does _ sound awfully upset and Marisa is already redressing herself. She slips off the workbench with ease, straightening out her dress and forgoing her underwear as she tries to make herself look more respectable then she had been a few moments ago. 

“Let her go, she’ll settle herself,” Asriel says, a last ditch effort to keep the moment even as Marisa heads for the door. 

He watches her shake her head, a smirk on her lips. “No, she won’t. She’s been having bad dreams. Let me settle her and then I’ll meet you in bed,” she murmurs, her last words playful. 

Asriel sighs but lets her go. He knows it’ll be quicker if Marisa settles her then if he tries; Lyra wasn’t particularly receptive towards him while she is upset. It’s only gotten worse since he’s been away for several months on end. 

He cleans himself up and dresses once again, eyes darting over to the work he’d been doing before Marisa’s interruption. He contemplates getting back to it but despite the fact Marisa seems fine, he decides against it. His work is important but so is Marisa; him being away for so long had clearly affected her. 

So he packs up for the night and heads towards their bedroom. A tired grin spreads across his lips at the sight before him. 

“I know I said meet me in bed,” Marisa starts quietly, grinning over at him from her position in their bed - Lyra, a binky in hand, snuggling into her side. “But she wouldn’t settle until I brought her in here,” Marisa explains with a sigh, though he can see the soft smile on her lips as she hugs their daughter to her. 

“It’s fine,” he says, giving a little shrug as he closes the door behind him and gets ready for bed. A few moments later and he’s turning the light off, climbing in beside Marisa and Lyra - a genuine smile appearing on his face when Lyra giggles as he kisses her goodnight. “Goodnight Lyra,” he murmurs to her as she settles between them both. 

“Night Papa,” Lyra murmurs, even though she’s still snuggled into Marisa’s side. 

He waits until the toddler’s breathing evens out and her little body sprawls wider between them before turning on his side to reach over to Marisa. His hand finds the one not wrapped up around their daughter, tangling their fingers together. He leans up, he knows Marisa isn’t asleep yet and tries to find her gaze in the dark. “Goodnight Marisa. Love you,” he murmurs, bringing their joint hands up to press a kiss to the back of her hand. 

He settles back down then, on his back and closing his eyes. It’s dark and quiet and he can feel himself starting to drift off to sleep when Marisa’s soft voice breaks the silence. 

“I love you too.”

Asriel simply smiles to himself as he lays there, breathing deep, almost asleep - it’s the first time Marisa’s said  _ I love you _ to him. 


End file.
